


Irondad & Spiderson and Maybe Some Avengers

by CyberWolfWrites



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Endgame doesn't exist, Fix-It, Gen, Irondad, Italian, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Nightmares, Peter Meets the Team, Peter Parker Meets the Avengers, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Sensory Overload, This is a 365 day thing, Torture, Waterboarding, peter meets the avengers, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:52:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 39,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberWolfWrites/pseuds/CyberWolfWrites
Summary: One-shots.





	1. #1--April 14, 2019

**Guys, I would tell you if I had a son**

The first time the Rogues figured out that Tony was hiding something was during one of their meetings discussing the New Sokovia Accords.  The Accords had been revised while the Rogues were on the run and they still need some tweaking even after the Rogue Avengers had been pardoned.  So, not long after the Rogue Avengers came to the Compound, they scheduled a meeting with the new Secretary of State, Tony, and Rhodey, and began to hatch out the mistakes of the old Accords and what to add to the new one.

“We’re not making small-time heroes like Spider-Man and Daredevil reveal their identities if they don’t want to!” Tony argues, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.  He glowers at the new Secretary of State who suggested that they keep the superhero registration system that also conveniently revealed who the superheroes were.

 _“That’s not what I was suggesting, Mr. Stark,”_  the new Secretary of State Thomas Ellis’s hologram says.   _“All I was saying was that all superheroes should be registered under the Avengers Initiative and will be called into the bigger battles if they are needed.  Their names would not be disclosed to the public and they will not be crowned as an Avenger unless all of the current Avengers agree.”_

Tony, now assured that Peter’s identity will be kept a secret until the kid decides to reveal himself, sits back down in his chair next to Rhodey and Natasha.  “Why are you protecting that kid, Stark?” Sam asks, looking at Tony with a perked eyebrow.  Tony glares at Wilson and just manages to stop himself from standing again.

“Because he’s a  _kid_ ,” Tony stresses, using Sam’s words against him.  Sam opens his mouth to make a retort but is cut off when Tony’s watch suddenly flashes red and blue.  Tony feels his face pale and he immediately taps his arc reactor that happens to be concealing one of the first prototypes of his nanotech suit and gestures for Friday to open the window.

“Tony, what–?” Steve is cut off when Tony blasts out of the room full tilt.

 _“What’s going on?”_ Ellis asks, sounding bewildered.  The remaining Avengers, save for Rhodey who knows what the watch means, exchange glances.

“We don’t know,” Steve says, sitting back down in his chair next to Sam and across from Natasha.

* * *

The second time Tony is caught hiding something-slash-acting suspicious was a few days later on Friday at noon.  He has a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he scrambles around the common room, grabbing papers at random.  The team had seen scraps of notebook paper with complicated looking equations on them sitting around for a few days, but since they’re still very iffy with Tony, they just ignored the papers and didn’t touch them.

“I don’t see the papers you’re talking about!” Tony mutters into the phone, stepping around Natasha who’s sitting in a nearby armchair with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Black Wid-oreo’ ice cream.  A few moments of illegible mutters and Tony stops, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Pete, I can’t hear you!  Why are you even calling me while you’re in the cafeteria?  It’s not like I have super hearing!”

A few more moments go past with Tony waiting for whoever is on the other line to move to somewhere quieter.  Some clearer but still illegible mutters and Tony bends down next to the couch, pulling a few papers from under it.  “Who the hell sticks metal alloy equations under a couch?” Tony mutters to himself, tossing all of the papers into a red and blue folder.  The team just watch as Tony heads into the elevator and disappears behind the doors.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sam asks Steve–who is sketching from a love seat next to Natasha’s armchair–and Natasha who’s nearly finished with the ice cream named after her.

“Language,” Steve comments, not even looking up from where he’s sketching the Compound.  “And it’s not our business who Tony talks to.”

“Oh, c'mon!” Sam says, throwing his arms up in exasperation.  “Don’t tell me that you're  _not_  interested in who he was talking to?  And what about the other day during the meeting when he sped off in that new suit of his?  What do you think, Nat?”

“I think the two are connected,” Natasha says, sticking another spoon of ice cream in her mouth.   _Why does Stark even have ice cream named after me in his freezer?_  Natasha thinks to herself before sticking another cookie loaded spoonful in her mouth.

Before anyone else can speak, the elevator doors ding open, revealing Tony in a pair of jeans, a band-t, and one of his jackets.  He’s still on the phone as he heads into the kitchen.  “What do you want me to bring?” the group hears him say into the phone from the living room.  A few seconds past and Tony snorts.  “Really, kid?  Skittles?  What are you, ten?"  The team can barely hear a muffled "Hey!” from the phone as Tony heads towards the elevator, a large bag of skittles in his hand and his phone in the other.

Tony turns to the group.  “Okay, gotta go, Pete.  See you soon,” Tony says, not even waiting for a response as he hangs up.  “I’m leaving for the weekend, so don’t break anything or do anything stupid.  Got it?”

“Where are you going?” Sam asks, trying to dig for some information.  Tony just lifts an eyebrow, whips on his shades, and says:

“Nowhere that you need to concern yourself with."  Before anyone can say anything, Tony jumps into the elevator.  "Bring me to the garage, Fri."  The elevator doors shut and the group exchanges suspicious glances.

* * *

The third time they caught Tony hiding something the man in question wasn’t even there.  The Compound was being fumigated so everyone had to spend a week at the Tower.  It is a few weeks later on Friday again, though this time it’s a little later in the day.

The group has just arrived at the Tower and what they really want to do is drop their stuff off and relax.  Maybe watch a movie or something.  "God, it’s been too long since we’ve last been here,” Sam says as they walk into the Avenger’s private elevator.

 _“Where would you like to go?”_  Friday asks the team as the doors shut behind them.

“Can you take us to our floors and then take us to the common room?” Steve asks.  Without saying anything, the AI takes them to their rooms.  It barely even takes them a minute or two to drop off their stuff and then they’re speeding off towards the common room.  The doors ding open and they all freeze at the sight of a teenage boy sitting at the newly added dining table covered in papers and his backpack.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, do you think I can come down to the lab, now?  I’ve nearly finished all of my homework and I have all week–” the teenage boy freezes as he spins around, eyes wide and body tense as he meets their gazes,  “–end.  Uh, what’re you guys doing here?"  The boy’s voice seems to raise a few octaves as the group walks towards him in confusion.  "Friday?  What’re they doing here?  I thought they were at the Compound!”

 _“Boss forgot to inform you that Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff are staying at the Tower for the week while the Compound is being fumigated,”_  Friday says easily, confusing the three Avengers further since only the Avengers, Tony, Pepper, and a few select individuals can use the AI.

“Oh,” Peter says, still tense.  If he weren’t so shocked at suddenly facing three of his heroes, Peter would have been talking their ears off by now.  The elevator doors open before anybody can say anything more.  Tony runs into the room, looking slightly panicked with his watch flashing red and blue, wide brown eyes flashing around.

“Peter, are you okay?  What’s wrong?  My watch is–” Tony stops, his eyes locked on the three Avengers as if he’s just noticed them.  He immediately walks over to Peter, squaring his shoulders as he hides his kid from view.  Peter tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, peeking out from behind his form in a decidedly childish fashion.

“Mr. Stark?” he questions, his eyes wide as his shock at suddenly facing the Avengers fade, excitement taking over him as he grabs onto his father figure’s shirt.  “Are those–What’re they–How–Oh, my God, is that  _Black Widow?_ Why does Captain America have a  _beard_?  Is that the Falcon? _”_   Tony purses his lips and sighs, moving to the side and wrapping his arm around Peter’s shoulders retain some form of protection over the kid.

“Yeah, kid,” Tony says.  “That’s Black Widow.  And I don’t know why Cap has a beard, and yes that’s the Falcon.  I forgot to tell you that they’ll be staying here for the week."  A few seconds of awkward silence with the slightly shocked Avengers staring at them.  "Grab your homework and head down to the lab.  I’ll be with you in a minute."  The four Avengers watch as the teenage boy shoulders his backpack, grabs his papers into a pile, and walks into the elevator, all the while staring at the group with wide eyes.  No one speaks until the doors close.

"Tony, what–?” Steve says, at a loss for words.

“You have a kid?” came Sam’s bewildered question.

“He seems sweet,” Natasha says, striding over to the couch and plopping herself down like nothing happened, grabbing the remote and turning on the tv.  Tony clenches his jaw.

“I don’t have a kid, Wilson,” he tells Sam, still tense.

“Then who was that?  Spider-Man?” Sam asks sarcastically, pointing a thumb at the elevator doors with a scoff.  He misses the way Tony’s face pales a little at the name before he crosses his arms over his chest.

“That was my intern,” Tony says steadily, defending himself and trying to cover up his reaction to Sam’s accusation.  “Now if you’ll excuse me," Tony shoulders his way between Sam and Steve, "I have a particularly excited kid to deal with.  See you later."  The elevator doors close behind him a few seconds later, leaving the group to stare at themselves for seconds.

"Who the hell was that?” Sam breaks the ice, waving off Steve’s how-dare-you-cuss-in-front-of-me look,

“I don’t know but did you see the way he reacted when you called the kid Spider-Man?” Nat asks as Steve take their seats in the living room.

“What, you don’t actually think…?” Steve asks, his eyes widening slightly.  “Oh, my God.  I dropped and airport terminal on a kid."  His guilt is soon overshadowed by his outrage at Tony.  "And Tony brought a  _kid_  to fight a  _war_."  Steve runs his fingers through his hair.   _I need a haircut,_  he thinks to himself as he stands up and paces around.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Steve,” Natasha says.  “We don’t even know if the kid is actually Spider-Man.”

“But you’re the one that brought up Stark’s reaction!” Sam cuts in, making Natasha glare at him.

“We’ll just talk to Tony about it the next time we see him,” Natasha says, making Steve and Sam nod.

* * *

Turns out, the next time they see Tony is the next morning when they’re getting breakfast.  He and the kid are laying on the couch, completely passed out with a random movie playing on the screen, bowls of popcorn strewn about.  Instead of waking up Stark, because they see how tired he’s been since their return, they begin making breakfast.  Not even a few seconds after setting the bacon on the frying pan, they hear a yawn.

They all look over from what they’re doing to see the kid, Peter they think Tony called him, rubbing his eyes and looking around tiredly.  After a few seconds, his eyes snap over to the Avengers.  The familiar colored eyes widen comically at the three of them cooking breakfast before he looks down at Tony, who’s still passed out by his side.  Peter’s relieved when his sudden action didn’t stir him.  Carefully, Peter removes himself from where he is curled under Tony’s arm, throwing the blanket back over the sleeping man.

He stands there awkwardly for a few moments, teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet as he looks at the three heroes.  “Hi,” he suddenly blurts out, ducking his head down as the sound gains the attention of the heroes and makes his cheeks turn pink.

“Hello,” Natasha says warmly, shocking Sam and Steve since she’s not open with people that she doesn’t know.  “Can you help me shred these potatoes?"  Peter scrambles over to her.

"Of course, Ms. Black Widow Natasha Romanoff ma'am!” Peter stutters out, plopping himself down on the chair and taking the shredder from Natasha.  She stands up to grab the extra cheese grater, sharing a glance with Steve and Sam.

“So, Peter,” Sam says, leaning against the counter as he mixes together the ingredients for pancakes.  “Yesterday Tony told us that you are his intern."  Peter just hums a little, his brows furrowed in concentration as he makes sure he doesn’t cut himself.  Sure, he can go through a whole night of patrol without getting a single scratch, but he’s not so confident about his cooking skills.

"I didn’t know that Tony takes interns,” Steve says, flipping over the bacon.  “How old are you, son?”

“S-seventeen,” Peter stutters out, his face reddening because  _Captain America is talking to him_.  “I just turned seventeen a few weeks ago."  Steve feels his chest tighten a little at that.  That means that Peter was fifteen when they fought.

"When did you become an intern?” Natasha asks.  “You seem pretty young for an intern.”

Peter shrugs.  “About two years ago,” Peter says, sticking to the public story.  “I applied for an internship but didn’t expect to be chosen.  Mr. Stark showed up at my apartment and told me about how he wanted me as an intern despite all of the college student applicants.  He said something about how–”

“–you’re smarter than all of those other kids,” Tony says, making Peter jump and nearly slice his hand on the cheese grater.  Peter turns towards the man with wide eyes, looking like he was caught taking cookies out of the cookie jar.  “Yeah, kid, I’m awake.”

“Morning, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirps as the man pushes himself off the couch with a low groan.  Tony grimaces as he stretches, his back popping.

“Mornin’ kiddo,” Tony says, ruffling Peter’s curls.  He ignores the looks the three rogues send him.  Tony leans over Peter’s shoulder at the table.  “What’re you making.”

“Uh…” Peter says, looking at Natasha with a questioning look.

“Hashbrowns,” Natasha tells Tony, raising an eyebrow at him.  “Sam’s making pancakes and Steve’s making bacon."  Tony hums and walks over to the coffee pot, beginning to brew a new pot of coffee.  Peter finishes shredding the rest of the potatoes and places the cheese grater in the sink.

"Go wash your hands, Pete, and grab your backpack.  You didn’t finish your homework last night,” Tony says, not looking away from the dark colored liquid that gives him life.  Peter groans and wakes his way into the elevator, muttering under his breath about 'stupid homework.’

It’s silent in the room for a few moments other than the cartoons on the tv and the sizzling of the bacon.  “So…” Sam says as Steve piles the rest of the bacon onto a plate.  “Is Peter yours?"  Tony sputters into his coffee, setting down his mug and hacking as the hot liquid runs down the wrong pipe.  He looks over at Sam with watering eyes while everyone looks at him in a mix of concern and amusement.

"What?” he croaks, clearing his throat.  “No.  No, of course not.  Guys, I would tell you if I had a son!"  Natasha just hums into her own cup of coffee, tilting an eyebrow at Tony.  Tony just rolls his eyes and groans.  "He’s not mine!”

“Biologically, maybe,” Sam says, flipping the pancakes.  Tony just glowers at him.

“Peter’s not my son,” Tony says sternly.

“But do you think of him as your son?” Natasha pushes.  Tony purses his lips and looks down at his mug, not saying anything.

“Yeah,” Tony says quietly.  Before anyone can react to that, the elevator doors ding open and Peter pops out, mouth running a mile a minute.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!  Do you think you can help me with my calculus homework?  There are some equations that I can’t figure out.  And then I have some chemistry that I think I may need help with, but–"  Tony just smiles down at his mug as Peter continues rambling on about his homework, tossing the bag in the living room and beginning to pick up the mess they left there last night.  The three Avengers exchange a glance.

* * *

So, yeah, Tony was hiding something.  He was hiding a son.


	2. #2--April 15, 2019

**Nightmares**

Peter shoots up in bed, a shout on the tip of his tongue.  He manages to swallow it down and a sharp gasp escapes him instead.  He’s trembling like he’s walking through a New York blizzard in his pajamas but sweat has built up on his forehead like condensation on a glass of cold water in a hot room.

 _“Peter, you appear to be in distress,”_  Friday says, somehow sounding concerned despite not being a human.   _“Would you like me to call Boss?”_   Panic shoots through Peter and he shakes his head back and forth vigorously, working his jaw as he tries to get the words out.

“No! No, Fri,” Peter pants out, drawing his knees up to his chest and tucking his head between his arms.  “I’m-I’m good.  I j-just need to take a few-few deep breaths.  Try to calm down a-a little."  Despite this, he’s doing the opposite.  His heart is climbing in his chest and is beating so hard that Peter can hear it straining against his ribcage and sternum.  His teeth are chattering from his shivering and gasps are escaping him as if he’s having the air crushed out of him by tons of concrete.

Well, that’s what it feels like at any rate.

The nightmare is fresh and the images flashing through his mind makes him clench his eyes shut as phantom pain hits him in the center of the chest.  It felt so real.  The cracking of the support pillars of the car garage, the dust and debris raining down on him as he runs towards Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark’s yell–

Peter’s eyes fly open at the thought and his breathing speeds up even more.  Sharp gasps are pulling themselves out of his throat as he looks around him with blurry eyes.  All he can see is rubble and darkness.   _And he can’t see Mr. Stark._

He can’t make out the words Friday are saying past the rushing of blood through his ears.  "Mr. Stark?” Peter calls out, his voice strangled as he shouts for his mentor/father figure who he hopes is not being crushed by tons of concrete like he feels that he is.

Tony sent the kid to bed not too long ago.  There was a mission today, and despite not wanting to, everyone agreed that yes, they did need Spider-Man’s help.  The mission ended well with no casualties save for a few very traumatized and slightly scratched up citizens who were being held captive in a local warehouse.

Some guy and his thirty or so cronies decided that  _hey!_  it was a good idea to get on the Avenger’s bad side by kidnapping a few people and daring the Avengers to come at them.  So, that’s what they did.  Turns out that this guy happened to be some maniac that likes to play with explosive things.  The bomb in the center of the room had nearly gone off if it wasn’t for Peter and Tony who dismantled it.

Tony thought nothing of the kid’s shaky voice and pale complexion when they got back to the Compound, thinking that he was just a little tired from staying up half the night in the lab last night after arriving at the Compound.  It’s the summer and Aunt May had decided that she and Tony could switch having Peter every two or so weeks.  So far, it’s a month in and Tony just got Peter back a day ago.

Now, hearing Friday say that  _his kid_  is in distress, Tony knows he fucked up.

The rest of the Avengers are chilling in the common room on Tony’s floor, eating the rest of the pizza and watching some movie about alien dogs or something.  They all like the kid, they’ve decided.  They haven’t known him long and their first few days together were a little rocky with Peter showing his obvious dislike towards Steve and a few other of the pardoned members.  But when they hear that the kid’s in distress, they think nothing when they immediately follow Tony down the hall.

They all crowd around Peter’s door, looking in on the scene.  Peter’s trembling on Tony’s lap, his head tucked into the older man’s throat, jumbled words, half-phrases, and the occasional sob escaping him.  Tony has this haunted and hard look in his eyes as he whispers to the kid that  _I’m alright, you’re alright,_  and  _Hey, we’re at the Compound in your room, not under tons of concrete_ and runs his fingers through the boy’s curled hair.

Tony meets the concerned gazes of his team and shakes his head, tightening his hold on his kid.  Reluctantly, the group travels down the hall but not before giving Tony this look that says  _explain_.  Not more than fifteen minutes later, Tony slinks into the common room looking like he’s just run a marathon.  He slumps into the nearest chair and rests his head in his hands for a few moments.  Everyone exchanges glances before Steve silently inquires, “What was that?”

Tony lets out this awful sarcastic and choked chuckle, removing his head from his hands and meeting their eyes.  “What do you think that was?” he asks rhetorically, sounding a little broken.  “The kid’s a superhero.  He’s been through some shit.  He gets nightmares.”

“That looked a little more than just ‘nightmares’,” Sam says tentatively.  “The kid looked like he was having a panic attack."  Nearly everyone snaps their attention from Tony’s shaky form to their pseudo-therapist.

"Tony?” Natasha says calmly, leaning forward from her seat beside Wanda and Vision.  “Why did you tell Peter that he wasn’t under tons of concrete?"  She sounds afraid to hear the answer and everyone else is, too.

Tony clenches his jaw and looks down at his hands.  "A year or so ago, a few months after everything went down, this guy was dealing weapons using the Chitauri technology from the battle of New York.  Peter discovered it, shit happened, I took the kid’s suit, and it turns out that the guy–the Vulture–was his homecoming date’s father.

"During homecoming, Peter went after the Vulture and ended up at the guy’s operation in a warehouse.  Words got exchanged and then the guy knocked out the support pillars of the warehouse before flying off to try and steal my plane–which Peter stopped–and leaving Pete in his stupid homemade suit under tons of rubble."  Everyone’s heart drops and their faces pale at the information.

"That guy  _dropped a warehouse_  on Peter?” Natasha asks, sounding outright murderous.  Tony just nods his head.

“Ever since then Pete’s been having nightmares of warehouses and those multilevel car garages being dropped on him and people he cares about.  This time it was me."  The room is completely silent as all of the Avengers stare at Tony, who in turn is staring at the floor, guilt weighing him down.

"Poor Peter,” Wanda whispers, her eyes glowing a little red in her emotions.

Tony just nods.


	3. #3--April 16, 2019

**Father’s Day**

_Who did you lose?_

It’s a simple question.  A very simple question.  But it pulls the air out of Tony’s lungs, it almost immediately makes his eyes burn and prickle with tears, and it easily breaks his mask of indifference with everyone staring at him expectantly.   _Because they don’t know who he lost.  If_  he lost.

Tony clenches his jaw and balls his hands so tightly that you can see through his skin and to the bone.  Because the answer should be simple.  It really should.  But who is– _was_ –Peter to him?  He wasn’t his son.  Not biologically at least.  He wasn’t really his intern, either.  His mentee?  Yeah, that could work.  But the moment Tony opens his mouth to say he lost his protege, his heir–because yes, Tony decided to make Peter the heir to his fortune and company–those aren’t the words that escape him.

“I…” he says in a strangled sound, clearing his throat as everyone’s eyes pierce into him.  Except for Rhodey.  Rhodey knew the kid,  _his kid._ He’s probably the closest person to Peter other than his Aunt and Pepper.  Tony turns to his best friend, his pain and grief evident in his eyes.

“Who did you lose, Tony?” Natasha says calmly, soothingly, because she can see it in him.  The others asked the question offhandedly because Tony still has Pepper and Rhodey and even Happy.  They don’t know that he has a son.  Had one.

“Did you even lose someone?” Clint asks, his tone taking on that of slight annoyance, fury, pain, grief.  Tony stays silent and that riles him up even more.  “You’re just sitting here, Stark!  Acting like you lost someone!  Steve lost Bucky and Sam, Natasha lost Wanda, Scott lost his family,  _I_ lost my family.  My wife.  My  _kids_ –”

“He was my kid."  The soft broken whisper shouldn’t have cut off Clint’s angry tirade.  Tony doesn’t lift his eyes from his shaking hands.  The shock in the room is almost palpable.  "I lost  _my kid_.”

“Tony…” Natasha says softly, heartbreak clear in her voice.  They’ve all lost someone and she doesn’t seem to care about masking her emotions anymore.  “You had a kid?”

Tony just nods his head, gesturing up towards the ceiling.  “Friday?  Show them my private files."  Friday does so without a word, the conference room darkening as the blue of the hologram monitors turn on.  After a few seconds of silence, Tony lifts his gaze to stare at the screens.  His breath hitches in his throat at the smiling boy on the screen and it completely disappears when the video begins to play.  It’s not a video that he’s seen before.

It’s one of the videos Peter recorded with his mask, and by the skyline behind him, Tony can tell that Peter recorded this while on top of a building.  The kid’s arm is covered in a red and blue webbed fabric and Tony can just about make out the spider emblem on his chest.  Tony hears the group’s breaths hitch at the sight.  They’ve just figured out the kid Tony lost is–was–Spider-Man.

"Hey, Mr. Stark!” Peter’s ridiculously high-pitched adorable voice echoes around the silent room.  Tony feels his heart stutter in his chest and can feel his throat tightening in emotion.  “I’ve, uh, just decided to record this for you.  I don’t know why."  Peter shrugs, his eyes widening as he nearly slips off the edge of the building.

"I had a good patrol today.  Stopped a few muggings, webbed some robber to a lamppost because he was annoying me, and I even got to pet a few dogs!  I saw that old lady again, the one who gave me that churro two years ago?  She got me another churro."  Peter holds up the remains of the cinnamon dough bread treat before sticking it in his mouth with a grin.

"I bet you wished you had a churro, too, huh?” Peter says after swallowing the treat.  Tony chuckles wetly, shaking his head.   _Yeah, Pete.  I wish I had you instead, though._   “Anyway, Mr. Stark.  I just wanted to say something."  Peter looks into the camera lens now.  For the majority of the video he was staring at the buildings below.  "It’s June 16–well not when I’m recording this but it is for you–and I’m not sure you know what the significance of that day is?"  Out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees Clint deflate.

"I went to their graves today,” Peter says quietly, seeming to lose his confidence as he looks down again.  “Dropped off some flowers and told them how my day was, what’s happened since the last time I visited them.

"Uncle Ben and I used to go to Delmar’s every father’s day to get sandwiches.  Before that, my dad and I used to go get ice cream.  But…” Peter’s expression turns a little wobbly and Tony can see tears building up in his eyes.  “They’re not here anymore, Mr. Stark.  But, you  _are_."  Peter looks into the lenses again.  "And I guess I just wanted to say this because you wouldn’t be watching this if I were sitting next to you.  I told Karen to send these videos to Friday so that you can see me if I’m no longer around.”

Peter shakes his head and bites his lip.  Tony feels tears begin to spill down his cheeks.  His chest jumps with silent sobs but he doesn’t remove his eyes from the screen.  “So, uh, happy father’s day!” Peter says, suddenly his happy self again after he wipes his eyes.  Tony can make out the pain in his eyes, though.  His kid’s face softens.  “I love you, Dad.”

The video clicks off, leaving them all bathed in blue light.  On the screen is a date.  Today’s date.  June 16, 2018.


	4. #4--April 17, 2019

**Sensory Overload**

Tony ignores the urge to fidget as he faces the rogue Avengers.  Well, they were rogues.  They were pardoned not too long ago with the promise that they would sign the amended Sokovia Accords.  They still have to go over some parts of the document to ensure that the Civil War will never happen again, but as far as everyone’s aware, they’re green again.

“When are we going over the Accords?” Steve asks, leaning against a nearby wall.  He looks different.  Older.  Tired.  Hell, is hair is longer and he’s got a beard that rivals Thor’s.  Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know, Cap,” Tony says, feeling a little confident with Rhodey and Vision on his side.  He’s relieved that Barnes is still in Wakanda getting acclimated and that Clint and that ant guy is on house arrest otherwise he’d feel more panic since he’s faced against Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha.  “But I’m assuming it’s soon."  Steve just nods and they all stand there awkwardly.  That is until Friday’s voice permeates the air.

 _"Sir, Peter is on his way up.”_    _Dammit,_  Tony thinks to himself, tensing up and exchanging glances with Rhodey.  Vision’s eyes is currently focused on one Scarlet Witch, so no surprise there.   _“Boss,”_  Friday says, sounding worried.   _“It appears that Peter is in great distress.”_   Tony feels his face pale as the elevator doors ding open, revealing Peter huddled in the corner with his eyes scrunched up tight and his hands clamped over his ears.

“Rhodey!” Tony hisses at his best friend, gesturing for him to grab the sound canceling headphones and the modified sunglasses that let no light in at any of the sides.  Tony runs to his kid while Rhodey grabs the sunglasses and headphones.  “Hey, hey, Pete.  Are you okay, kiddo?"  Tony refrains from hugging the spiderling when he whimpers in pain, knowing that anything touching his skin will feel like sandpaper.  He also ignores the worried and confused looks the Avengers are giving him as well as their whispers.

Rhodey hands him the glasses and headphones and Tony swiftly slips them over Peter’s head, wiping the tears off of his face as he does so.  Peter almost immediately slumps against the back of the elevator in relief as his senses are almost completely blocked, his chest heaving as he attempts to breathe steadily.  Tony just kneels in front of his kid, blocking the view of him from the rest of the Avengers.  Eventually, Peter’s breathing turns normal and he reaches out for Tony, tired.

Tony pulls Peter up and he slumps against the man, his backpack thumping on the ground.  Tony nods for Rhodey to grab it as he tenderly wraps his arm around the kid’s shoulders, steering him towards one of the bar stools by the kitchen counter.  Peter’s backpack thumps beside him and Peter rests his head in his arms.

He looks up as Tony places a glass of water and extra strength pain medication in front of him and grabs it with a shaking hand, taking a few sips of it and downing the pills before resting his head in his arms again.  "How long has this been going on?” Tony asks Peter, leaning on the counter in front of the kid.  Peter doesn’t lift his head as he replies.

“Since lunch,” comes the muffled reply, making Tony close his eyes and breathe in a deep breath so he doesn’t explode.

“Kid, why didn’t you call me to come pick you up?” Tony says softly.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Peter mutters, finally lifting up his head.  “Sorry, Mr. Stark."  Tony just rolls his eyes, walking around the counter and resting his hand on Peter’s shoulder as he steps in front of him.

"Don’t apologize, kid, you did nothing wrong,” Tony says, finally refocusing on the group of confused and worried individuals.  “Now, head up to bed.  You can meet everyone later."  Peter peeks over Tony’s shoulder, his eyes widening in surprise.

"That’s the Avengers!” Peter hisses, looking back at Tony.

“That they are, kid, that they are,” Tony says, gesturing for the kid to follow him.  “C'mon, you’re going to bed.  You can meet them later.”

“But Mr. Stark!”

“Nope!” Tony says, grabbing Peter’s backpack and leading him into the elevator.  “You’re going to bed."  Peter just whines as the elevator doors close behind him, leaving Rhodey–because honestly, Vision’s too preoccupied looking at Wanda–all alone.

Everyone turns to the man with raised eyebrows.  "Okay, who’s the kid?” Sam asks.  “And what was all of that?"  Rhodey just sighs, cursing Tony to the deepest pits of hell.

"That was Peter, Tony’s intern,” Rhodey says, waving off their disbelieving gazes.  “He tends to have sensory overloads from time to time and you guys just happened to witness one."  Everyone nods sympathetically.

"You can’t honestly think that the kid’s just an intern, can you?” Natasha asks, walking over to a nearby couch and plopping down in it.  “I’ve never seen Tony act so paternal and he wouldn’t act that way without reason, especially around some of us."  Rhodey just shrugs.

"A lot has changed since you’ve been gone."  The room lapses into silence and the elevator door dings open, revealing Tony.  He takes one look of all of the eyes on him and narrows his own pair at Rhodey who’s looking a little guilty.

"Nope.  I’m not dealing with this, platypus,” he says, gesturing for Friday to close the elevator doors.  Before anyone can say anything, he’s gone.


	5. #5--April 18, 2019

**Night**

The two tinker away in the lab, wordlessly passing tools back and forth with a few taps and a muttered word or two.  The music that Tony usually has blasting away in the lab is background music to the two’s breathing.  Usually, Peter would be chatting the older man’s ears off about school or yesterday’s patrol, but the kid’s surprisingly silent.

Tony sets down his screwdriver from where he was tweaking a few metal plates on a new suit design and looks over at the kid.  Peter’s fiddling with a new webshooter that he designed himself with little input from Tony.  The kid would usually build the prototype before getting the man’s opinion and then they’d work on them together.

The kid’s so focused on calibrating his webshooter that he doesn’t notice Tony’s eyes on him.  Tony sighs.  “What’s wrong, kid?” he finally asks, leaning against his worktop.  Peter startles easily, nearly flying out of his seat as the tool in his hands clatters against his workbench.

“W-What?” Peter stutters, blinking at Tony with wide eyes.  “What do you mean, Mr. Stark?"  Tony scoffs, lifting an eyebrow.

"You’re not babbling away like you usually do,” Tony says, a little worry seeping through his voice.  Peter’s face flushes and Tony just rolls his eyes, walking over to the kid.  “So, I’m going to ask you again and I want an answer.  What’s wrong?”

Peter nervously wrings his hands together, bowing his head down as he shifts around in his seat.  He opens his mouth to no doubt lie again before it snaps closed with a click.  He just shrugs his shoulders and Tony’s eyebrows furrow in worry as his gaze softens.  “How about we get out of the lab?” Tony offers.  “I don’t think we’re going to get much done today, kiddo.”

Peter just nods his head, shuffling after Tony as he leads them towards the elevator.   _“Where to, Boss?”_  Friday asks, her voice sounding a little more subdued than usual.

“Take us up to the penthouse common room, would you Fri?” Tony says, watching as Peter slowly begins to tremble.  The elevator shoots off without another word from the AI and Tony thinks that she can sense the tense atmosphere.  The elevators open with a soft ding and Tony wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders, walking him to the nearest couch, handing him the remote to the tv.  Peter takes it silently.

“Why don’t you put something on, huh kid?” Tony asks, making his way over to the kitchen to make some popcorn for their impromptu movie session.  Tony hopes that the distraction of the movie will make the kid loosen up enough to tell him what’s wrong.  If not, it’ll make them both feel better.

Tony tosses a bag of popcorn into the elevator and grabs them both a can of pop.  He tosses it at the back of Peter’s head and he grabs it out of the air without even turning around, popping the tab and taking a swig of his  _Pepsi_.  Tony once tried to give Peter  _Coca-Cola_  once, but apparently,  _they’re not the same.  Coke is heavy and tacky and Pepsi is better._   Peter’s words exactly, if he remembers.

Over the popping of the popcorn, Tony can hear the opening lines of  _Journey to the Center of the Earth_  and it’s one of those days, he decides.  The popcorn ceases it’s popping a few seconds later and Tony pulls the overly large bag out of the microwave, grabbed a large bowl to toss the kettle corn into because "kettle corn is better than regular popcorn” and Tony can’t help but agree with the kid.

The only light in the room is coming from the tv after Tony leaves the kitchen, Friday lowering the lights as he settles beside the kid.  Peter grabs the bowl from Tony as he gets comfortable before cuddling into his mentor’s side, sighing as he finally gets comfortable.  Tony wraps his arm around the kid, pulling a blanket over their laps.

It’s been a few hours since Peter came to the Tower so that’s probably why it’s dark out, but Tony doesn’t worry about Peter’s Aunt.  May said that Peter’s going to spend the week with him since she’s going out of state for some sort of conference at work.  Happy went with her.

Tony can’t help but drop some of his worries as Peter leans his head against his shoulder, Tony instantly running his fingers through the kid’s hair, careful of the knots there.  Peter just hums as he watches the uncle on the screen scramble around to clean his house because he didn’t know that his nephew was coming over.

They watch the movie in silence, Peter occasionally giggling at a few of the funnier parts.  There’s not the usual carefree air like there usually is when they watch movies together, but the room is calm and slowly Tony begins to watch the movie instead of worrying about his kid.

Eventually, Peter’s hums of content and giggles cease as he goes limp against Tony, completely knocked out. Tony hums under his breath as the credits begin to roll on screen, placing the half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the table as he pulls Peter into his lap, easily picking up the kid.

The first time Tony picked the kid up, he was shocked at how light the kid was.  He figures that it’s a mix of what the spider bite did to him–because there’s no way that all of the muscles on him aren't heavy–and the way the kid forgets to eat, which that alone has Tony worrying.  Tony gives himself a mental reminder to have a big breakfast ready for the kid when he wakes up because Peter’s barely eaten anything since they got here other than the snack Tony threw at him and the popcorn.

Tony carries Peter through the hall, Friday dimming the lights as he heads to the kid’s room.  Peter has rooms both at the Compound and at the Tower and both are in Tony’s personal quarters.  Originally, Peter had a room next to Vision, but Tony changed that when the kid began having nightmares and the two grew closer.

Tony toes the door open and Friday turns on the light, leaving it just bright enough that Tony can see in front of him.  Pulling the comforter off the bed, Tony gently places Peter down, the kid humming as Tony pulls the comforter around him.  Tony sits down beside the kid for a few moments, just running his hand through the kid’s hair.

His heart feels heavy as he looks at the kid.  He’s got dark purple bruises under his eyes and Tony’s kicking himself for not noticing sooner.  The kid’s still having nightmares and hasn’t told him.  Tony sighs.  Peter stirs for a few moments, making Tony freeze before his eyes creak open.  “Mr. Stark?” he says groggily, patting around on the bed before his hand comes in contact with Tony’s.

“Yeah, buddy?” Tony says, wrapping his hand around Peter’s.

“Thanks,” Peter says, his eyelids drooping once more.  “For today."  Tony just smiles at Peter as he falls asleep once more, pressing his lips to the kid’s forehead before carefully standing up.  With one last glance at the sleeping spiderling,  Tony makes his way out of the room, softly closing the door behind him as the lights in the room turn off.

_‘Night, Peter._


	6. #6--April 19, 2019

**It was the only way**

Tony frantically looks around him, spinning around as people appear around him.  He’s in Wakanda with the rest of the Avengers, all of them awaiting the return of their loved ones.  Tony spots Strange walk out of the Wakandan forest and his panic lessens now that he won’t have to travel all the way back to Titan because  _he freaking hates space goddammit._

The wizard spots Tony and walks in his direction.  “I told you it was the only way, Tony,” Stephan says, stopping a few feet away from the man.  “You were the key to winning this."  Tony just rolls his eyes.  In truth, though, he was the one to wield the gauntlet that brought everyone back.  It now sits by the dead Titan’s body, a little mangled.

Tony’s left arm hurts and parts of his suit is a little mangled, though nothing else is wrong with his arm.  Just a few burns here and there.  Tony just nods at the good doctor as he meets up with the other wizard, Wong?  Yeah, Wong.

Tony spots Sam walk out of the forest, looking a little worse for wear, Bucky walking behind him.  He spots Steve stop in the distance before they’re all running to each other.  Wanda soon walks out and as soon as Natasha spots the little witch, they’re running towards each other, too.  Tony keeps his eyes on the skyline, even when Rhodey stands beside them along with Bruce who’s no longer the Hulk.

That Quill guy walks out of the forest, followed by that big guy, Drax?, and followed by the chick with antennas  He spots the talking raccoon, Rocket, run after them as a tree with arms and legs and a face walks out of the forest.  The group collapse in a hug and the woman who helped Tony return home, Nebula, joins them.

Warriors dressed in Wakandan garb walk out with T'Challa leading them, causing a frantically crying princess to run towards him, followed by her mother and the Dora Milaje.  They all shout something in Xhosa and then cross their arms over their chest in a salute.

Tony walks towards the forest as he doesn’t see the kid, his kid, follow after them.  Son after he’s calling out the spiderling, "Peter?"  He looks around and can see the rest of his team catch notice of his frantic calling.  Tony sees Scott with a little girl in his arms and some other people, along with Clint and the rest of the family.   _But none of them are his kid_.

"Pete!?” Tony says, panic seizing his chest as he stumbles towards the treeline, followed by his team.

“Tony?” Steve asks, gaining the man’s attention.  “What’s wrong?"  Only a few of the team knew that Tony lost someone though they didn’t know who he was.

Tony just shakes his head.  "I can’t-I can’t find him.  I can’t find him, Steve!” Tony says, turning around and eyeing the forest again.  He can practically feel the pity rolling off the people as Pepper walks up beside him.  “I can’t see him, Pep!”

Pepper wraps her arms around Tony, dressed in her own iron man armor.  Tony frantically looks around as everyone begins to call out for the boy.  But he doesn’t answer.  Then finally:

“Mr. Stark?"  Tony whips around and freezes when he sees his kid finally walk out of the forest, those tear tracks still etched into his skin.  It feels like the breath has been pulled out of him at the sight of his kid, still dressed in that stupid iron spider suit that he made.  The one that was supposed to keep himself safe.

"Peter,” Tony says, the word coming out as a soft breath.  And then he’s running.  And Peter’s running.  They’re both running.  And the boy throws himself at his father figure and Tony wraps his arms around his kid.  “Oh, my God, Peter!  Peter!"  Tony feels tears welling up in his eyes, but he doesn’t care.   _Because his kid is back_.

"Dad,” Peter whimpers into the man’s neck, making the two of them cling to each other even more.  Tony grabs the back of the kids head, running his fingers through the slightly knotted curls.  “I thought I’d never see you again, Mr. Stark.”

“Peter,” Tony says because that’s the only word that he can say.  “Peter."  The two cling to each other even as the team walks towards them and Pepper and Rhodey stand beside them.  "You’re okay."  The two slowly release themselves, though Tony doesn’t remove his arm from around the kid’s shoulders and Peter doesn’t remove his face from the man’s chest.  "I missed you, kiddo,” Tony finally says, squeezing him.

“I missed you, too, Dad,” Peter says, sounding like he’s not aware that he even said the words.  “I missed you so much."  Tony just holds him tightly as he faces the baffled expressions of his team.

"You have a kid?” Clint says slowly from where he stands, surrounded by his wife and kids.  “How did we not know that you have a kid?"  Tony can tell that Peter didn’t realize that they weren’t alone by the way he stiffens.

He turns around with wide eyes as he looks at his heroes.  He looks over at Tony and then back to the Avengers.  "Holy,  _shit_!”


	7. #7--April 20, 2019

**You know Italian?**

The lights slowly fade on in the living room, giving everyone's eyes some time to adjust as the credits of the movie begin to roll.  Immediately, everyone goes through the routine of picking up before heading to their rooms for their own nightly routines.  Except for one little spiderling.

Tony just picks up around the kid, not bothering to grab the blanket that he's clinging to.  Peter has a bad habit of clinging to things when he's sleeping, especially if he hasn't been sleeping well.  And since Peter slept halfway through one of his favorite movies, it's a testament as to how exhausted the kid is.

Once everything is placed away, everyone faces the predicament of whether or not they should wake the kid up.  They've witnessed firsthand how the kid will literally jump on the ceiling if he's woken up from sleeping after not having a lot of sleep for a while.  But they don't want to leave him on the couch either.  They've all felt how uncomfortable a night on the couch can be despite how comfortable these particular couches are.

"Should we wake him up?" Sam whispers, looking at the kid who's curled up in a ball next to the arm of the chair, an ironman blanket clutched in his hands.

"He doesn't look like he's gotten a lot of sleep lately," Steve mutters back as they all watch the kid shift around a little with dark purple bruises under his eyes.  After a few moments, Tony just shrugs.

"I'll carry him.  It's not like I haven't done it before," he says, walking towards the kid and picking up his startlingly light weight.  He freezes as Peter shifts around in his hold, dropping the blanket in favor of wrapping his arms over the man's shoulders and neck.

" _What?_ " Peter asks sleepily in Italian, blinking groggily as he looks around.  " _What's going on?_ "  Tony just looks at Peter with a completely baffled expression.

" _You know Italian?_ " Steve asks in Italian, looking just as baffled as everyone else.

" _How didn't we know this, little spider?_ " Natasha asks, looking slightly impressed and shocked that she didn't know this about the kid.

" _What the heck, kid?_ " Clint says.

" _Kid, how did I not know you speak Italian?_ " Tony asks, still holding the half-asleep kid in his arms, though he can see a blush making its way into the kid's cheeks from all of the attention and at the fact that he's holding him.

"What?" Sam asks in English, frowning and looking at everyone around him.  "What are you guys saying?  I don't speak Italian!"  Everyone just looks at him as if it's completely ridiculous that he doesn't speak the language because _apparently everyone in the room other than him can._

"Okay kid," Tony says in English, tossing the awoken spider back on the couch.  "How did we not know that you speak Italian?  And what other languages can you speak?"  Peter's face is turning as red as his suit or Tony's armor with all of the attention.

"Well..." he says, fiddling with the sleeves of the sweatshirt he stole from Tony.  "Aunt May is Italian and she kinda taught me when I moved in with her and Ben?  We kinda just slip into it every now and then."  He shrugs.  "Other than that, I speak Spanish, though that's because I'm learning it in school."

"Huh," Tony says, sitting on the arm of a nearby chair.  "I should've known.  Your Aunt is a very--"

"If you end that sentence with 'hot Italian woman' I will web you to the ceiling and leave you there until the morning," Peter says, scowling at Tony.  First when Tony first came to him about the 'internship', then Mr. Delmar, then that Asian guy at the Thai restaurant, and now Tony again?  Why can't everyone just leave his aunt alone?

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Tony asks cheekily, waggling his eyebrows at Peter.  Peter doesn't let up his stony face even as the other Avengers join in on the laugh.  Eventually, he drops the look with the rolls of his eyes, muttering about  _'stupid people and their stupid comments about Aunt May.  Like, what are they even trying to do?'_  which leads to the laughter increasing tenfold.

Peter just crosses his arms and pouts before a yawn breaks it.  He stands up and stretches, grabbing the blanket off the floor and effectively gathering the attention of the group as he makes his way to his bedroom.

" _Night guys!_ " Peter says in Italian.

" _Night, kid._ "

" _See you tomorrow, little spider._ "

" _Actually go to sleep this time!_ "

" _Goodnight, kid._ "

"I still don't speak Italian!"  This comment is Sam's, respectively.  "Whatever.  See you later, Spider-kid."  Peter just narrows his eyes and rolls them as he makes his way down the hallway, ignoring Sam's quip at his name.  Honestly, why can't people seem to get it right?

Peter doesn't even bother turning the lights to his room on as he stumbles towards his bed, slamming face down into his pillow.  Not even a second later, Peter's conked out, his mind still flooded with thoughts of almost all of his teammates speaking a language that he's become very familiar with over the years.


	8. #8--April 21, 2019

**Peter and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day**

Peter lays his head down on his arms and represses the urge to groan.  He’s been staring at his paper so long that his eyes are sore.  Can eyes even get sore!?

“What’s up, kiddo?” Tony asks, fiddling with some new project for SI that Peter would  _so_  be over if he didn’t want to shoot all of the lights out and dip his head under water for  _some_  type of break to his bruised and battered senses.  “You’ve been staring at that paper for hours now and I think you only wrote one word.“  Peter looks down and there it is, one word.   _The_.  As in,  _the_ start of his paper for English.  Peter actually lets out a groan this time but it doesn’t make him feel any better.  His eyes are burning, his head is pounding, and he generally just doesn’t feel  _good_.

Today hasn’t been a very good day.  Rewind to this morning.

Peter’s awoken not by his alarm clock, but by the banging three floors down.  His neighbors seem to be fighting again and apparently the one really  _really_  likes to bang pots like that one chick on that one show who was on vine because the other neighbors were so loud that they didn’t get any sleep.  Which also means, that with his enhanced senses, Peter didn’t get any sleep either.

Peter just rolls over in his bed, pulling a pillow over his head and groaning into his mattress tiredly.  On top of not getting that much sleep last night, Peter had stayed out on patrol much later the night before due to some weapons dealing that he ended up wrapping up for the police with a pretty hand-made web-fluid bow.  That also happened to hold all of the crooks together.  Stuck to the wall.  Because, hey! they’re criminals.  And Peter likes webbing up criminals.

But he’s not feeling like that today.

Peter just lays down in his bed, trying to smother himself with his pillow.  It doesn’t work and he smashes his alarm clock when it rings because  _goddammit does that hurt_.  It appears that it’s going to be one of  _those_ days.  And by that, he means his senses are turned up a little too high.  Not too high to cause him sensory overload immediately, but enough to grate on him and slowly build to such an overload.  And when it’s one of those days, it’s pretty bad.

After a few moments of blissful peace, because  _finally_  the one woman stopped banging the pots and nobody’s yelling anymore, Peter’s jerked out of his daze by Aunt May.  “Peter!  I know you’re awake!  You’ve got to get to school,” she half-shouts, making Peter grunt at the loud noise.  Yeah, it’s going to be a bad day today.  He can already sense it.

His spidey sense is trigger happy and his heart is racing because  _you’re in danger goddammit.  You’re going to die!  May’s going to die!  The whole world is going to die!_ Peter does his best to ignore it.  He usually can ignore the senses during school where it points out poorly placed legs and a pencil thrown towards his head or two, but today’s just not working.

Peter just rolls off his bed and blindly searches through his closets because  _god dammit the sun’s too bright._ And  _holy hell where’s the sun’s light switch?_   Peter just grumbles to himself, pulling on the pair of jeans he wore yesterday because they’re not as tight as his clean ones and grabbing a random shirt that feels extra comfy.  He tosses a black, grey, and white flannel over his maroon shirt and literally just slips on two random socks because  _who the fuck cares if you’re wearing a blue, red, and white sock with a star on it and a black and red one with a symbol usually found on a certain black spiders butt?_

He leans against his door in lieu of opening it before actually turning the knob and nearly falling on his fucking face because  _sure, wicked cool spidey reflexes, you can catch a god damn knife aimed at his head but you can’t fucking catch him when he almost faceplants?_   Peter just rolls his eyes as he stumbles into the bathroom, leaving the lights off as he finally peels his eyes open.  And  _ouch, god dammit that really fucking hurts._

After a few moments of temporary blindness, Peter finds out that the sudden bout of pain in his eyes was most likely due to not having opened them yet to adjust and it dulls until there’s barely ache.  He swiftly goes through the routine of brushing his teeth, face scrunching up in disgust as he uses May’s toothpaste because his ran out yesterday and he forgot and there’s peppermint in there and ever since the spider bite peppermint has suddenly become his all-time enemy.

When he finally manages to finish scrubbing his teeth, Peter immediately rinses his mouth out, nearly gagging at the scent and the taste of the residue peppermint.  Peter shivers for a moment in disgust before running his fingers through his hair quickly.  He’s not all tidy and his curls are out because  _who the hell has time for hair gel when the substance sticks to everything and has a very faint odor that he can sometimes ignore but seemingly can’t even think of today_?

Peter meets Aunt May with a tired grumble as he shoves toast into his mouth, pulling on his old sneakers because they’re more comfortable than the new ones Mr. Stark bought him.  He feels a pang of guilt before he shoves it off, handing Aunt May her jacket as she walks by it.  Peter pulls his backpack on and the two of them slip out of the apartment, lights off and the door locked.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” May asks him as they rush down the stairs because the elevator is broken  _again._   (He thinks that it was never really fixed in the first place.)  Peter just shakes his head as he sticks his earbuds it, not putting his music on as he uses the device to drown out some of the city noise around him.  “Be good for Mr. Stark, I’ll see you on Monday,” May says, snapping Peter out of his slight daze as she plants a kiss on his cheek.

Peter just stands where he is when his Aunt jumps in her old car to drive to work in and drives off because  _he forgot that it’s Friday and that means Mr. Stark and the Compound and shit everything got worse because Mr. Stark will want him in the lab with the too bright lights, the too heavy smells of chemicals and oil, and the too loud AC/DC music_.

Peter just lets out another groan as he sprints towards the station where he needs to jump on a train to get to school and then walk a few blocks to said school.  Peter nearly groans again at the thought of people bumping into him and brushing against his clothes and skin and the loud noise because  _he’s sensitive dammit_.

Surprisingly, nothing really goes wrong on the train but it was so loud that Peter’s sure his ears are bleeding.  So, it still seems like a pretty terrible day so far.

When he gets to school, Peter’s sure his head is going to explode.  His spidey senses are still going haywire and his brain is pretty much fried with how much input his eyes and ears are taking in.  All he really wants to do is curl up in the janitor’s closet with his soundproof headphones and fancy blackout sunglasses.

But he can’t.  Because it’s not a sensory overload yet and he has a Spanish test that he’s pretty sure that he  _may not_  bomb.

So, Peter toughs it out.  He toughs it out all the way until fifth period that happens to be his lunch period which also happens to be one of the busiest lunch periods other than next period.  So,  _shit!_  is a pretty accurate word to describe the situation at hand with the loudness, but it becomes a  _double shit!_  when Peter hears Flash’s voice.

Peter really doesn’t like Flash.  He really really doesn’t like Flash.  And he was starting to wonder when the guy would show up because he usually corners Peter before lunch in the halls or before first period starts.  But,  _of course,_  both MJ and Ned happen to be absent and he’s left to fend for himself.  Which would be fine any other day because he’s Spider-Man, but then again, today just isn’t a very good day.

“Hey, Penis Parker!” Flash yells as he walks purposeful strides towards his lonely little table.  “What?  No friends here to defend you now?  You gonna call your girlfriend to defend you again?"  Peter just ignores him and rests his head on his arms.  "Hey, Penis!  I’m talking to you!”

“Fuck off, Flash,” Peter spits out, grabbing his bag and stalking out of the cafeteria, not even bothering to look back at the bully’s no doubtedly shocked face.  Peter doesn’t worry about tossing his lunch out because he didn’t have one in the first place.

And now he’s hungry because  _god dammit why does he always forget about his metabolism?_   But, Peter marches on.  The rest of the day manages to drag by and Peter’s relieved when he jumps into Happy’s SUV because  _holy shit isn’t it so peaceful and silent and dark in there?_

Happy grunts a greeting that Peter isn’t bothered to respond to and they begin their journey to the Compound.  Peter’s just slumped in his seat and he hasn’t even bothered to buckle his seat belt like usual because  _god dammit he’s too tired and done with all of this shit_.

The ride to the Compound is uneventful but Peter feels even more terrible because he blew off Happy’s few attempts at talking to him and he was rude.  But he’s too tired today to care.  He manages to safely drag himself into Tony’s lab and immediately the lights pierce through his eyes and Peter doesn’t know whether he wants to scream or cry or  _sleep_.

“Hey, kid!” Tony beckons Peter.  “Go ahead and get started on your homework.  We’ll work on your new web shooter design later."  Peter just nods his head, not bothering to say anything.  He sees Tony look at him out of the corner of his eye but he doesn’t really care.  Because today was just a really bad day.

So when Tony asks him what’s up, he  _spills_.

"Today’s just a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, Mr. Stark!” Peter says, tossing his pencil away as if it means nothing to him.  “First, I wake up before my alarm clock because of my stupid neighbors with haywire spidey senses, then I’m forced to use May’s toothpaste that has peppermint in it because mine ran out, then the train station was  _loud_  and I’m pretty sure my ears were bleeding, and then I had to skip out on lunch because of stupid Flash, and now the lights are too bright and my head hurts and I’m so freakin’ tired!”

Peter deflates with a trembling lip and lowered eyes while Tony stares at him, shocked at the outburst.  After a few moments, Peter hears Tony set down his tools.  He feels a hand being placed on his shoulder and then Tony’s lifting his chin up.  “Kid, why didn’t you say anything?” Tony says, his voice soft and full of worry.  “You should have called if you were this close to a sensory overload.”

And it’s now that Peter realizes that he was literally dealing with a mild sensory overload the whole time and then tears begin to fall.  Tony hushes him and pulls him to his chest and they rock back and forth for a moment.  “Hey, Friday, dim the lights for the path to my room, please,” Tony says, the lights dimming as he leaves Peter’s things and leads him to his bedroom.

Peter just sniffles into his jacket sleeve, nearly crying again as he realizes that he’s wearing the big long sleeved shirt Ben bought at the Stark Expo all those years ago.  Tony, hearing the sniffles, just wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulder, steering him into his room.

He immediately pulls the kid to his bed and orders Friday to put on a movie.  “I’ll be right back, Pete,” Tony says.  Ten minutes later, Tony strolls into the room with a box of pizza and a few bottles of water.  How he got pizza in under ten minutes, Peter has no idea.  But he appreciates the food and immediately tucks in as Tony joins him.

It’s not long until he’s feeling better and he’s no longer hungry or thirsty.  Peter just tucks himself into Tony’s side, finally allowing his eyes to fall shut.  So, apparently, Peter's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day has a pretty good ending, all things considered.


	9. #9--April 22, 2019

**Thunder**

“Where are you going, kiddo?” Tony asks him as he pushes himself off the coach, launching himself over the back so he doesn’t have to walk in front of people who are watching the movie.

“I’m just getting some water,” Peter murmurs, already making his way towards the kitchen.  He freezes momentarily at the rumbling of thunder in the distance, breathing in a sharp breath as his heart thuds unsteadily in his chest.  He swallows and shakes his head as he heads towards the cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

Peter flinches as a loud roll of thunder rolls in the distance, a loud crack that makes him lose his grip on the glass.  His breathing easily becomes labored as the glass shatters on the ground, the remains of his water splattering against the ground and covering him like blood.

Peter grabs at his chest as he slides down the face of the refrigerator, memories and thoughts whirring around his mind.  The thunder sounds like a gunshot and suddenly he can see Ben on the cold wet ground of the sidewalk, a hole in his chest and blood covering Peter’s hands.  The thunder sounds like Toomes’ wings crashing into the pillars of the warehouse and the resounding boom it made when it fell and suddenly  _he can’t breathe._

Peter gasps for breath, not aware of anything around him.  He can just barely hear the mumbles of a familiar voice, but his ears are ringing with the sound of the gun firing and he can’t breathe because thousands of pounds of concrete and metal are on top of him, pinning him down.

“-er!” he can hear through the fog.  “-eter!“  Peter gasps in a deep breath, hands trembling as he latches onto something.  It’s warm and holds onto him too, giving him some reassurance because  _he’s not alone anymore.  He’s not in that warehouse alone.  He’s not begging for his Uncle to come back even though he’s right below his fingers._

"Peter!” he can make out.  “Pete, buddy, you’re okay.  Everything’s fine."  And suddenly, breathing is a little more bearable because Mr. Stark’s here and Mr. Stark is  _safe_.

But Peter’s still trembling and he can still hear the gunshot and he can still  _feel_ the concrete pressing against his back and pushing him into the ground and  _blood is covering his hands and pants because now it’s Mr. Stark with a bullet in his chest and holding onto him._

"M’s'r S'rk,” Peter slurs out, his brown eyes flickering about until he meets the familiar brown eyes of his father-figure.  “Not s'fe.  Y'r h'rt."  He says it insistently as he clings to the man, tears making his already blurry vision blurrier.

"No, no, no, Pete,” Mr. Stark says, staring into his panicked eyes.  “Look at me, I’m fine.  You’re fine.  You’re safe."  Peter just shakes his head, his breathing still labored.

"Y'r  _hurt!  Dad!_ ” he says, burying his head into the man’s chest that he was  _sure_  that had a bullet in it.  He trembles in the man’s arms, not aware that he just called his mentor  _dad_.  “Don’t leave me, too,” he whimpers, his words coming out full and not slurred as Mr. Stark runs his fingers through Peter’s curls.

“You’re safe, buddy,” Tony whispers into Peter’s hair.  Peter can vaguely feel them rocking a little and he can’t hear the thunder anymore.  “I’m safe and I’m not going anywhere.”

Peter just sobs into his chest.  “Please don’t leave,” Peter says, lifting his head to stare into the man’s eyes.  Mr. Stark meets his eyes with a soft worried look and shakes his head.

“I’m not leaving, Pete,” Tony insists, ignoring the concerned eyes of the rest of the Avengers.  “I’ll never leave you."  Tony knows that he can’t keep the promise but  _damn does he want to._

They sit there for however long it takes until Peter’s no longer sobbing and his breathing is normal and he can  _breathe_.

"Sorry,” Peter murmurs into Mr. Stark’s chest.  Tony just shushes him and cards his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Don’t apologize, kiddo,” Tony says.  “Now let’s say we get up, yeah?  My knees are starting to hurt."  Peter immediately stands up and Tony’s heart practically breaks because  _this kid cares about him more than he does himself and damn doesn’t he just wish the kid was less like him and not self-sacrificing._

Tony leads Peter over to the couch that the two of them are occupying and one of the team, Sam, hands him water.  Tony hands the water to Peter who’s curled against his chest and watches at the kid lifts the glass to his lips.  When he downs more than half of the glass, he hands it to Tony, who hands it back to Sam.

It’s not long until Peter slumps against Tony in exhaustion and  _damn doesn’t Tony wish that Peter doesn’t have to go through this because no kid should._

"Tony…” Natasha says, jumping in the chair nearest him.  “What was that?"  Tony just sighs and runs his fingers through the kid’s hair.

"Peter has panic attacks sometimes,” Tony says softly, not removing his eyes from the kid.

“Do you know what causes them?” Sam asks, sitting next to them and staring at the kid.  Sam has some experience in this kind of thing, so of course he wants to find a way to help the kid.

Tony sighs.  “Loud noises tend to trigger them and no I won’t tell you what they’re about because that’s the kid’s job,” Tony sighs as Steve or one of the others try to ask what the kid was seeing.

“Why was he worrying about you leaving?” Wanda inquires in that accented voice of her, her eyes a slight reddish color due to her worry for Peter.

Again, Tony sighs, pulling the kid closer to him.  “The kid’s lost a lot in life.  That’s all I’m going to say."  But, they understand.  Because why would this kid call Tony  _dad_  if he had his and why would he say "don’t leave me, to”?

“Anyway,” Tony says, changing the subject, “let’s just finish the movie and I’ll take Peter to bed."  And everyone does because they don’t want to pry any more than they already have.


	10. #10--April 23, 2019

**MJ**

Peter lets out a whoop as he flips through the air, shooting a web at a nearby building and using his swing as momentum to throw himself higher in the air.  He closes his eyes as he falls, knowing he’s got a few seconds before he has to shoot another web.

Opening his eyes, Peter shoots a web at the corner of a building, pulling himself upward and landing on said corner in a crouch.  The eyes on his suit narrow as he spots something on the edge of a nearby building before they widen.  “No way,” he mutters to himself.

 _“What is it, Peter?"_ Karen asks him.

"Is that MJ?” Peter asks, tilting his head to the side at the person sitting on the edge of the building, a sketchpad sitting on their lap.  “Holy…  It  _is_ MJ.  What is she doing on the edge of a building?”

 _“Who is MJ?”_  Karen asks.   _“Is she like Liz?"_ Peter’s eyes bug in the suit, the black mechanical eyelids not even showing at how wide his eyes are.  Spluttering, Peter nearly falls off of his perch, shaking his head back and forth wildly and waving his hand about.

"What?  No no no no no.  She’s-she’s not like Liz.  Liz is kind and sweet and MJ, well she’s funny and she’s sarcastic and she’s beautiful…  Wait, what?"  Peter blinks in shock at his trail of thought.

 _"So she is like Liz then.  You should tell her."_  Peter just rolls his eyes, ignoring the AI as he shoots a web, jumping from his perch and swinging towards his friend.  With a flip, he lands beside MJ who doesn’t even jump.

"What are you doing on the edge of a building?” Peter asks MJ, who doesn’t remove her eyes from her really good sketch of the skyline before them.  “Woah, you’re really good.”

“Thanks, Webhead,” MJ says, finally lifting her eyes to look into his, well into his mask’s eyes.  Peter’s eyebrows scrunch up as he pulls his head away from her in confusion.  “What are you doing here, Peter?"  In his shock, Peter slips off the edge of the building and falls about twenty feet before his mind catches up and he catches himself on the side of the building.

Peter holds onto the side of the building, looking up at MJ who’s looking down at him with a perked eyebrow.  He shoots another web and pulls himself back on the edge where he lands in another crouch, sliding back into a sitting position.  "I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter says, his voice higher pitched in his shock and panic.

“Don’t even try,” MJ says.

“Okay."  There are a few moments of silence before, "How…  How long have you known?  About me being Spider-Man?"  MJ just snorts, shading in the side of a building.

"Since homecoming,” she says, making Peter’s breath hitch.  Homecoming was a few months ago since it’s nearly summer now.  “You didn’t really hide it when you rushed out of the dance and then it turned out Spider-Man stole Flash’s car and then saved Tony Stark’s plane from being stolen.”

Peter’s glad that he has his mask on because he’s pretty sure his face is the same shade of his mask.  “Oh."  MJ, once again, just snorts.  "You know, you’re really observant.  You said so yourself."  MJ doesn’t bother saying anything as she continues her very detailed sketch.  "You never answered my question, you know.  What are you doing all the way up here, sitting on the edge of a building?”

“Why do you swing?” MJ asks him after a few moments, setting down her pencil and looking into Peter’s eyes.

“I swing because it gives me this amazing feeling,” Peter says finally after a few moments of silence, of thinking it over.  “I just feel at home when I’m flying through the air, sitting all the way up here, looking over the city…  It’s–”

“–Exhilarating,” Michelle finishes him.  Peter looks over at her with a smile, pulling his mask off of his face.

“Yeah,” Peter says after a few moments.  “Exhilarating.  Is that how you feel when you sit up here, too?”

“No,” MJ says, making his eyebrows furrow.

“Then why–?”

“I feel at peace up here,” MJ says, cutting him off again.  “The sounds of the city are much more muted all the way up here than when you’re on the streets.  It’s much more quieter up here.  Peaceful.”

“I feel that, too,” Peter mutters, closing his eyes and feeling the wind ruffle his hair.  “Hey, MJ?” Peter says, perking up, “Do you want to feel how I feel when I swing?"  Michelle just lifts an eyebrow at him, her eyes widening after a few moments.

"Wait, you’re not talking about swinging with me, are you?"  Peter just grins at her.  "No, no, no, and, no.  Not gonna happen, loser.”

Peter just pouts at her.  “C'mon, MJ!  I promise that it’ll be fun.  Just a few laps around the block."  MJ just looks at him suspiciously, looking into his puppy dog eyes.  After a few moments, she rolls her eyes, making him grin and jump onto the floor of the roof, offering a hand out to the girl.

She takes it with an eye roll, closing her sketchbook and letting him lift her to her feet.  "Hold your sketchbook to your chest, I’ll web it so it doesn’t fly off,” Peter says, making MJ do so with a raised eyebrow.  Peter sprays a web to both sides and turns around, bending down a little and gesturing for MJ to jump on his back.

She does so with a scoff, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist.  “I’m going to web your legs and arms to me, okay?” Peter asks.

“Whatever, Webhead,” MJ says, her head right next to his.  Peter just rolls his eyes and webs her limbs to him before standing up fully.

“Are you ready?” Peter asks, gaining a nod.  He pulls his mask over his head and stands on the edge of the building.  He looks down before jumping off, wincing as MJ screams in his ear.  He shoots a web at a  building, pulling himself down a road with a whoop.

They swing all over the city, whoops and hollers escaping Peter and screams escaping MJ.


	11. #11--April 24, 2019

**Sweatshirt**

Peter rubs his eyes as he sits up, looking around him in confusion.  The last thing he remembers is him and Mr. Stark watching the newest Star Wars movie.  His eyes focus on a little note card on the bedside table and he picks it up, his eyes sliding over the words blearily.

_‘You fell asleep last night and you wouldn’t wake up.  You’re in my room since yours is still trashed.  Go ahead and pick anything from my drawers to wear._

_-TS’_

_Oh,_  Peter thinks, looking around the room.  Now he can see the picture frames of Tony and Rhodey, Tony and Pepper, Pepper, and even Tony and him.   _That makes sense._   Taking a few more seconds to look around the room, Peter pushes himself off the bed, shuffling over to the only dresser in the room.

 _Ms. Potts probably has a walk-in closet,_  Peter thinks to himself, sliding open the top drawer.  He’s greeted with the sight of underwear and socks and he immediately shuts the drawer, his face turning red.  After a few seconds, Peter opens the next drawer down and is relieved when it’s just sweatpants.  He grabs the first pair he sees, some joggers, and searches for a shirt to wear.

Peter opens the second drawer and leafs through the shirts, smiling when he spots a cat shirt here and there, but he doesn’t take anything from it.  Instead, his eyes are drawn towards the chair in the corner of the room that he saw when he first woke up.  Peter bites his lip as he looks at the article of clothing on it.  It’s an old grey sweatshirt with frayed edges and a few grease stains on it.  The one thing that really catches Peter’s eye, though, is the MIT logo on it.   _He wouldn’t mind if I…?_

Thinking it over for a few moments, Peter swipes the sweatshirt from the chair and heads towards the bathroom in his room since it’s the only thing that’s not trashed.  Some sort of device that Peter had been tinkering with at school had exploded in his room and Peter’s glad that he wasn’t there when it happened since his room is completely  _decimated_.

Doing his business and slipping on the joggers and sweatshirt, Peter pads slowly down the hall, rubbing at his eyes.  The lights dim along the way for him and Peter’s glad that he finally told Tony about his heightened senses and how they’re pretty much unbearable in the morning.  "Thanks, Fri,“ Peter mutters as he steps into the elevator, waiting a few seconds as it goes down a level before jumping off.

Peter lets the ends of the sweatshirt hang over his hands as he makes his way into the kitchen.  He can hear something playing on the television but his thoughts are currently on curing the hunger pain in his stomach.   _God, when was the last time I ate.  Oh, wait…  Lunch yesterday._   Peter grimaces as his stomach clenches, stopping as he spots Mr. Stark standing in front of the stove, moving something around on a skillet.

Mr. Stark, Peter learned, used to be a horrible cook.  The first time he learned that was when Peter was sick and Mr. Stark offered to make some soup.  Sure, the broth was fine, but Peter was pretty sure that everything else was burnt.  Since then, Peter offered to help Mr. Stark cook when he stayed over since he happened to know how to cook somethings due to Uncle Ben.  That also happens to be the reason Aunt May is a horrible cook:  Peter and Uncle Ben were the ones who cooked dinner and breakfast, and sometimes lunch on the weekend.

"Whatcha making?” Peter murmurs, standing on the balls of his feet to look at the pan from over Mr. Stark’s shoulders.  “Oh, pancakes again!  Make me some?”

“Of course, kid,” Mr. Stark says, not removing his eyes from the batter in the pan.  “How was your sleep?  You crashed pretty hard halfway through  _The Last Jedi_.  Tough week?"  Peter just hums, starting a new pot of coffee since the one made is nearly empty.

"Slept better than usual last night,” Peter admits.

“No nightmares?” Mr. Stark asks because he  _knows_  that Peter has them on occasion.  He’s seen his fair share of Peter’s panic attacks and nightmares and he’s hoping they’re not the reason Peter crashed during one of his favorite movies.

“No nightmares,” Peter confirms, pouring them both a mug of coffee.  An iron man mug for him and a specially ordered spiderman one for Mr. Stark that he got the man for his birthday.

“That’s good, kid,” Mr. Stark says, adding a few pancakes to a large plate of them that Peter somehow only just noticed.  “Go ahead and get us some plates and silverware while you’re at it,” Mr. Stark says, hinting towards Peter setting down their mugs on the kitchen table where the remains of his homework and one of Mr. Stark’s tablets lay.

Peter does as told since his mentor is the one making the food.  Usually, Peter would be much more wary of leaving the man to his own devices while cooking, but pancakes are one of the only foods that Mr. Stark already knew how to partially cook.  Just a little nudge from Peter sent the man in the right direction and now pancakes have become a staple around the Compound when Peter stays over.

Peter grabs the syrup as Mr. Stark grabs the plate of pancakes, bringing them over to the table.  Once Peter sits down with the syrup, Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow at him.  “Is that my MIT sweatshirt?” the man asks, pointing a fork with a square of pancake on it at Peter.

“Uh…” Peter says, freezing in his tracks from where he was grabbing the syrup.  “You said I could wear something of yours.  I didn’t know that I’m not allowed to wear it.  I’ll go take it off now–”

“–Pete, it’s fine,” Mr. Stark says, rolling his eyes.  “It was just a question.  And besides, I have a few others.  You can go ahead and keep it."  And if the sweatshirt is Mr. Stark’s favorite, he doesn’t show it because the grin on Peter’s face is much more heartwarming than some old sweatshirt.


	12. #12--April 25, 2019

**Getting stabbed sucks, a lot**

_“Peter, it appears that you have been stabbed,"_ Karen informs him, sounding concerned.

Peter muffles a groan as he presses his hands against his bleeding wound, biting his lip as a spark of pain shoots through his side.  He presses his back against the alley wall, spraying a web over the wound to hold it together.  Once he had run out of bandages, and with nothing else to use and not wanting to worry Aunt May, Peter had used the web to staunch his bleeding until the wound healed a day later.  Bruises and small cuts may heal overnight or within a twenty-four hour period, but larger wounds like stabbings and bullet holes take a little longer.

And yes, he had been shot before and  _yes_  this isn’t his first time being stabbed.

 _"Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?”_  Karen asks when he doesn’t answer her.  Peter’s eyes flash open and he jerks up before groaning and leaning against the wall.

“No, I’m good Karen,” Peter says, taking in shallow breaths to avoid any further pain.  “I’ll just head back to the Tower.”

 _“Peter, I don’t believe that it is wise to swing to the Tower in your condition,”_  Karen tells him, her voice hinting that it’s a warning that he shouldn’t do anything stupid.

Peter just closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the wall, trying to gain the courage to make his way back to the Tower.  Once again, it’s the weekend, and just because he usually spends it at Tower it doesn’t mean that he’s going to skirt on patrol.  Even if it does mean swinging all the way back to Queens.

But now?  He’s kinda regretting it.  It’s close enough to quitting time that hopefully Tony won’t get suspicious when he sees Peter’s logs on the suits and  _yes he does know that Mr. Stark is having Karen sending him every single second that he’s in the suit._

Breathing out the rest of his nerves, Peter crawls up the building.  He’s pretty sure by the way he’s crawling that he’s leaving a bloody trail along the side of the brick building, but he can’t find it in him to care.  Once he’s on the top of the roof, he sits down in relief before standing up again and making his way to the edge of the building.

Before he can’t think twice about his very stupid decision, Peter shoots a web to a nearby building and swings off into the night.  He cries out sharply as he pulls his body up to the arc, refusing the urge to curl up as his body begins to descend upon the earth once more.

He shoots another web and the next time he pulls up on the swing, he bites his lip to hold in the sound of pain.  He grimaces as his side is tugged at again and ignores his trembling arms as he throws himself forward, letting go of the web as he flies through the air.

Peter manages to make it through three more swings before he’s forced to land on a nearby building.  He lands roughly on the slightly graveled platform, his body rolling a few times due to the momentum of his swing.  He clutches at his side with a sharp inhale as he comes to a stop, a groan following the quick breath.

 _“Peter, your vitals are dropping.  I suggest you call Mr. Stark,”_  Karen insists once again.  Peter just shakes his head a few times, too busy biting his lip to stop any sounds escaping him rather than reply to the AI.   _“Peter, if you do not return to the Tower within the next five minutes, I am afraid that I must call Mr. Stark.”_

 _That_  catches his attention.  “What!?” Peter says, sitting up sharply before clutching at his side with another muffled sound of pain.

 _“Protocol ‘Tattletale’ forces me to call Mr. Stark if you do not return to a safe destination ten minutes after being seriously wounded,”_  Karen informs Peter, making him scoff at the name.   _“Peter, I suggest you let me call Mr. Stark.”_

“I still got five minutes,” Peter grunts out as he pushes himself to his feet.  Looking around him, Peter surmises that he’ll get to the Tower with two minutes to spare if he swings at his normal pace.  Drowning out his concerned AI’s words, Peter jumps off the building and shoots a web.

His eyes tear up at the pain in his side as he pulls on the web line roughly, throwing himself into the air.  It doesn’t take long for him to reach the Tower, though with the pain in his side it felt like years.  Peter launches himself at the building, swiftly crawling up it to his bedroom window.  Locating the proper window, Peter slides in it, sighing in relief when his feet touch the floor.  His relief doesn’t last long, however.

 _“Calling Tony Stark,”_  Karen says, making his eyes widen in panic.

“No no no no no no, Karen!  I’m at the Tower, don’t call Mr. Stark!” Peter shouts in a panic, but it’s too late.

“Pete, what’s wrong?” Tony’s voice comes through the speakers in his mask.  “I thought you were on patrol.”

“I was,” Peter says, “It’s just that it’s quiet tonight so I thought that I’d come back."  A few seconds of silence pass and Peter thinks that he’s got away with the lie.  Well, it's  _not_  a lie, technically.  It has been a pretty uneventful night with only two muggings if Peter’s not including getting stabbed.

"Peter…” Tony says, his voice hinting that Peter better tell the truth.  “Why do you sound out of breath?  And don’t say that it’s because you’ve been swinging all around Queens.  I know that your stamina is high enough that a night’s patrol doesn’t make you even slightly out of breath.”

“Uh…"  Peter’s heart seizes in panic when he hears footsteps come down the hall and the phone call disconnects.

"Peter, that door better be unlocked when I get there,” Tony says, his footsteps becoming louder as he approaches the door.  Peter looks around wildly before spotting the open door to the bathroom.  Thinking quickly, he launches himself into the room and closes the door behind him.  Peter hears his bedroom door open, followed by Tony’s “Kid?”

“I, um, I’m in the bathroom!” Peter shouts as he presses the spider emblem on his chest, allowing his suit to literally slide off of him.  He pulls the mask off and shoves the suit and said mask into the hamper, pressing a hand to his side as the makeshift web bandage is pulled off the wound.

“What’re you doing in the bathroom?” Tony asks from outside the door as Peter scrambles to find a towel, wetting it and holding it to his side.  A swift glance shows that it’s still bleeding, though the flow is slowing.

“I’m changing!” Peter shouts back, biting his lip to hold in the whimper as he presses the towel harder against his side.

“You’re changing,” Tony deadpans, making Peter wince because  _shit Mr. Stark totally knows something’s up._

“That’s usually what one does in the bathroom, right?” Peter asks, opening the doors below the sink and pulling out the first-aid kit.

“And what’s taking you so long to change?” Tony asks.   Peter grimaces because  _Mr. Stark definitely knows that he’s not changing and that he’s hiding something._   Before Peter can answer the man, Tony opens the door, freezing at the sight of Peter fiddling with some bandages and gauze in his boxers.  Then, his eyes trail down to the bloody wound on his side and his eyes widen.

“Holy  _shit_ , kid!” Tony says, rushing forward.  “Why didn’t you think to tell me you got stabbed?  Did you plan on never letting me figure this out?"  Peter winces as Tony pulls the materials from his hands and gestures for him to take a seat on the sink.

"You’re angry,” Peter murmurs as he does as told.

“Damn right I’m angry!” Tony burst out, grabbing a clean rag and wetting it before wiping the blood off of Peter’s side.  “You didn’t tell me that you got hurt.  You need to tell me these things, kid."  Peter hands his head and watches silently as Tony gently wipes the blood off of him.

"I’m sorry,” he whispers after a few moments.  “I didn’t want to bother you.  And besides, it’ll be fully healed in a few days."  Tony stiffens and Peter knows that he said the wrong thing when the man looks up at him with sharp eyes.

"It doesn’t matter that it’ll heal in a few days, Peter,” Tony says sternly, grabbing a few antiseptic wipes from the kit.  Peter tenses as his wound flares in pain, tightening his grip on the sink as Tony murmurs a quick apology.  “You got hurt and you’re my responsibility.  And I care about you, kid.  You can’t keep hiding these things from me, especially when it involves a semi-serious wound like this.”

They’re silent while Tony finishes patching up his wound.  Peter’s eyes watch Tony’s hands as he packs away the first aid supplies.  Peter jumps down from the sink so the man can put the kit under the sink where it belongs.  “I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs after a few moments.

Tony sighs.  “I know you are, kid,” he says, clapping his hands.  “Now, tell me where your suit is."  Sheepishly, Peter pulls the bloody suit from the hamper, holding it out for his mentor to take.  Tony just raises an eyebrow.

"We’ll fix this tomorrow,” Tony says, making his way to the door.  “See you tomorrow, Pete.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, making his way to his closet to pull some clothes on.  Tony turns around and meets Peter’s eyes, his own softening.

“Goodnight, Peter."  At that, the man walks out of the room, suit and mask in hand.


	13. #13--April 26, 2019

**Homework**

"Hey, Mr. Stark!" Peter says, waving at the man as he heads straight to the fridge for a snack.  He ignores the onlookers, the rogue Avengers who've returned, as he begins putting together a sandwich.  Usually, Peter would go to Delmar's after school to buy a sandwich, but now with Happy picking him up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, he's forced to use Mr. Stark's utilities to keep up with his metabolism.

"Hey, kid," Mr. Stark says, looking up at him from where he is working on something at the kitchen table.  They both ignore the eyes of the rogue Avengers who are staring at them from their positions on the couches.  "Make me one?"

Peter grins.  "Sure!"  It's become a habit for Peter to make him and Mr. Stark a sandwich when he comes over since the man continues to forget that he actually needs food to function.  It doesn't take long to make Mr. Stark's usual, a mix of cold chicken, cheese, and tomato slices, and his usual of turkey, cheese, and tomato slices (flattened, of course).

Peter takes the two sandwiches over, tossing his backpack on the table as he sits down to Mr. Stark.  "Thanks, kiddo," his mentor says, messing up the kid's curls before placing down his tablet and taking a large bite of his sandwich.  "Now, what work do you have?"

Peter pulls out his Spanish homework with a sheepish grin, making Mr. Stark lift an eyebrow.  "I may or may not be falling behind Spanish.  Again," Peter tells the man, taking out a few of his homework worksheets that he has to turn in on Monday or he won't get any credit.

"What d'you need help with?" Mr. Stark asks, sliding away his tablet as he sidles closer to his mentee.  Peter shows his mentor the worksheets.  "Ah, future tense.  This isn't too hard, kid.  You just have to figure out the stems for the irregular verbs like _haber_ and _salir_."

Peter bobs his head up and down.  He already knows this, it's just that he keeps having trouble remembering the changes in the stem of the words.  " _Haber_ goes to _habré_ and _salir_ goes to _saldré_ , right?" Peter asks, hand posed over the worksheet to write the stem of the words down.  Mr. Stark nods his head approvingly.

"Right."  The two continue conversing about the stems of the words, Peter writing the correct stem with the proper ending.  It's not long until the first worksheet is done and Peter has to start translating sentences into English and others into Spanish.

 _Tomorrow, Alicia will be busy._   Peter taps his pencil on the paper a few times as he thinks about it.  " _Mañana, Alicia estará ocupada,_ right?" Peter asks his mentor, looking up at the man who's looking at his paper.  Tony nods his head with a smile.

"Yep, go ahead and write it down, kid," Tony says, leaning back and grabbing his tablet.  He keeps an eye on the kid's worksheet as he fills in his own work, pride filling him as Peter makes no mistakes.  "You're doing good, Pete."

Peter stops where he began to write  _aire puro_ , looking at the man with a grin.  "Thanks, Mr. Stark!" he says.  "I wouldn't do this good without you, though."  Tony just raises and eyebrow, nodding towards the kid's worksheet.

"You're doing perfectly fine on your own.  I'm not even helping you with this page," Tony points out, gesturing to the nearly complete page with Peter's messy scrawl.  It's not too bad to be ineligible, but it could still use some tweaking.  "Don't play down your victories, kiddo."  Peter just nods his head and after a few moments, he finishes the rest of his worksheet.

The two are so invested in their work that they stopped eating.  It's not until Peter's beginning his last worksheet that Tony notices the barely eaten sandwich.  "Pete, eat your sandwich," Tony says sternly, pointing at it with his tablet pen.

"I'll do it after I finish the rest of my homework," Peter says, not lifting his head from where he's writing.

"Nope, you'll eat it now.  I don't need May getting on my case because I returned her kid hungry," Tony says, making Peter roll his eyes at the exaggeration and the rogue Avengers to share looks that say  _Who's May?_

"I don't have much left," Peter insists.  "Just a chemistry worksheet and a few problems that I need to go over for Decathlon that MJ has me doing since I missed the last meeting."  Tony raises an eyebrow up and Peter realizes his mistake.  "I wasn't doing _that_ ," he says, hinting towards his little Spider-Man outings.  "Aunt May needed some help at home with something and MJ said it was fine if I missed a meeting since I haven't missed any in the past few months."

Tony still looks skeptical but he lets it drop.  "You're still eating that sandwich," he says, face straight.  Peter rolls his eyes, grabs the sandwich, takes a bite, exaggeratingly chews it, and then swallows it.

"Better?" Peter asks.  Tony nods his head in satisfaction.

"Now, finish half of it," Tony says, making Peter groan.  "Uh uh, I don't want any of that.  I know that you forget eat while we're in the lab and I don't want you starving to death."  Peter just pouts, picking up the sandwich.

"Hypocrite," he mutters, wincing as Mr. Stark flicks him in the forehead.  "Hey!  What was that for?  You know as well as I do that you're the same way about food when we're in the lab."

"Don't talk back to your elders, Peter," Tony says sternly, not denying it, and making a teasing grin appear on the younger's face.

"Does that make you old?" Peter retorts innocently, making Tony glare scathingly at him.

The ex-rogue Avengers look on in shock as the two banter as if they've been doing it forever.  They're even more shocked that Tony's actually  _helping_  the kid with his  _homework_.  They've never seen the man so open about his emotions and they've never seen him so  _paternal_.

"When did Stark get a kid?" Sam mutters as it's the first time he's actually seen Peter.  The only people who've already seen the kid were Vision and Natasha, Vision because he's been at the Compound ever since Peter started coming over and Natasha because she's Natasha.

"I have no idea," Steve mutters back.  "Didn't know he even had one."  The guilt is obvious in his tone because he literally left the man for dead in Siberia without knowing that Tony had a kid to go home to.

"Never thought I'd see the day where Tony Stark would be a parent," Sam says, shaking his head and refocusing on the movie playing on the screen.

Unbeknownst to them, Peter listened in on their conversation, a grin pulling at his lips as he heard the guilt in Steve's voice.   _Good,_  Peter thinks,  _be guilty.  You don't know what's coming._


	14. #14--April 27, 2019

**Bullying**

Peter rushes through the living room, head down, hoping that no one will stop him or see the bruise forming around his eyes.  "Hey, Pete!" Tony says, making Peter freeze in his tracks.  "Where are you going, kid?"  Slowly, Peter turns around, keeping his head down as he toes the carpeted floor.

"I'm just going to my room to do my homework," Peter mutters, spinning around on his toes and walking down the hallway.  He walks a little faster when he hears Tony jump off the barstool from where he was sitting and makes his way towards him.

"Peter, what--?"  Tony's voice halts when he grabs the kid by the arm, spinning him around and spotting the bruise on his cheekbone and eye.  "Whoa, what's this?"  Tony grabs Peter's jaw softly, turning his head this way and that as he examines his face.  "Who've you been fighting kid?  Are you okay?"

Peter flinches out of his hold.  "It's-It's nothing, Mr. Stark.  I'm fine," Peter stutters out, facing down again.  He tenses when Tony places his hands on his shoulders.

"Peter, look at me," Tony says softly.  Peter swallows and looks up at his mentor-slash-father-figure.  Tony's heart drops at his kid's expression.  His lip is wobbling and his eyes are shining in unreleased tears.  Immediately, Tony pulls the kid into a hug, holding him tightly as the kid lets out a shuddering breath.  "Oh, kid..."

Tony's throat is tightening up and he clenches his jaw as he runs his fingers through his mentee's curls.  He presses his lips to Peter's forehead as the kid begins to sob into his chest.  All he can do is hold his kid as he cries, reigning in his curiosity and the anger at who did this to his kid because _yes, Peter is his kid._

All he can say is  _It's okay, kid, everything's going to be alright, just let it out._   Eventually, Peter's cries soften until he's shaking a little.  "C'mon, buddy," Tony says, wrapping his arm around his kid's shoulder.  Tony leads Peter into the empty living room, sitting the kid on the couch in front of the television.  He hands Peter the remote before rushing to the kitchen, grabbing two mugs and two packets of hot chocolate mix.

It's not long until he returns with two steaming cups of hot chocolate.  "Here, kid," Tony says, sitting next to Peter and wrapping his arm around him.  Peter cuddles into the man's side, grabbing the mug out of the man's grasp and drinking nearly half of it in the first swallow.

They're silent for a while as they watch the people moving on the screen.  Peter rests his head on Tony's shoulder and Tony rests his head on Peter's head.  "Do you wanna talk about it?" Tony asks after a few minutes of watching the movie.

Peter stays silent before, "I just had a really bad day, Mr. Stark."  Tony hums and squeezes Peter's shoulders as encouragement.  "Pretty sure I bombed my Spanish test and I've been cold all day," Peter says quietly, snuggling into Tony's side a little more.  "My senses have been bothering me all day, too.  And when Flash--"

"Is Flash the one who gave you that shiner?" Tony asks.  Peter tenses before he deflates again, nodding.  "How long has this been going on, kiddo.  C'mon, you can tell me, Pete."  Peter mutters something and Tony sits up a little.  "Didn't hear that, kid."

"Since middle school," Peter mutters, looking into his hot chocolate.  "You know, usually I can ignore it.  I can just ignore everything he says, but then he brought up you and I couldn't just ignore him.  I said something and then, well..."

Tony just nods, "He got angry."  Peter just nods.  "You're gonna be okay, kiddo.  You're gonna be okay,"

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," Peter says, setting down his hot chocolate and leaning into Tony's side.  Tony just hugs Peter.   _Everything's gonna be okay, kid._


	15. #15--April 28, 2019

**Don’t Go**

“C'mon, Pete, get up,” Tony says, setting down his wrench and looking at the very clearly exhausted Peter Parker.  Peter just hums and buries his head further in his arms, making Tony roll his eyes.  “Kid, get up, I know it’s the weekend but you can’t stay up this late.”

“No,” Peter says, obviously half asleep as he grabs a screwdriver and attempts to tighten a screw on his science fair project.  “I’m-I’m fine, Mr. Sta-“  Peter’s sentence is cut off with a yawn and Tony once again rolls his eyes fondly.   _This kid is too much like me,_  he thinks to himself.

"Kid, you’re more than half asleep,” Tony says, standing up and stretching.  “Let’s go.  You can finish your project tomorrow."  Tony ignores the kid’s whines as he walks over to him, pulling the screwdriver out of his grasp.  Tony fondly notices that it’s the screwdriver that he pulled out of the remains of his old home in Malibu.  "Kid, if you’re not standing in the next ten seconds, I’m carrying you.”

“What-?  No, no you don’t have to do that,” Peter says, barely able to lift his head up from his arms.  “I’m fine…"  Peter’s mumbled speech trails off as soft breaths begin to escape him.  Tony just smiles softly at the kid, pulling him off of his workbench and into his arms.  The man’s once again struck at how  _small_ and  _light_ Peter is.  How much of a kid the kid still is.

Tony knows that the light weight thing is due to his spider genes because Peter can’t do all of the flips and stuff he does if he weighs the same as a normal seventeen-year-old, but it still makes his heart ache because  _Peter also happens to forget to eat just like he does and the kid actually needs the food because of his stupid metabolism._

"Let’s go to bed, kiddo,” Tony says softly as he steps into the elevator.  Once again, they’re at the Compound, and instead of being just the two of them with the occasional visit from Rhodey and when Pepper has the time to come over like it was before Thanos, the other Avengers are there.  Tony mentally groans because he can already hear Wilson’s and Barton’s dad jokes and jeering.   _I swear to God if any of them wake up my kid, I’m breaking their stuff the next time they need a tune-up._

Tony walks through the living room, ignoring the eyes of everyone who happens to be watching a movie at midnight.  He breathes a sigh of relief as he makes it into the hall that leads to his personal section of the Compound.  While Tony had originally planned on putting Peter next to Vision, the kid’s like his son and he’d rather have him close.  Not to mention the nightmares, of course.

Tony toes Peter’s door open, light revealing a room of legos,  _Star Wars_  and  _Star Trek_  posters, a messy desk with another new backpack on it, and Peter’s neatly made be because  _of course the kid has manners and also happens to make his bed in the morning._

It takes a little maneuvering but Tony manages to peel back the Iron Man comforter to place the kid down.  And then he’s stick with the next problem–literally.   _Peter won’t let go because his stupid sticky spider hands won’t let up._

“Kid,” whispers Tony, nudging Peter a little, “you gotta let go."  Peter just hums, and with his stupid spider strength, pulls the man into the bed with him.

"No,” Peter mutters, burying his head into the man’s chest as Tony attempts to pull away and leave.  “Don’t go."  Tony’s heart melts and aches at the same time because he was just like him once when he was a boy, wanting his father’s attention and comfort.

"Never,” Tony mutters, sighing as he shifts around, making himself comfortable.   _Just until he’s completely asleep,_  Tony tells himself, throwing the blanket over both of them.  Friday closes the door for them because he’s made it so that she can control whether or not Peter’s door can open, close, and lock due to the kid’s occasional sensory overload.

And if Pepper happens to check on them and takes a picture to send to May, well, nobody needs to know.

***Sorry that it’s late!***


	16. #16--April 29, 2019

**Prompt:  Ooo! I just had another idea! Pete uses his spidey-ness to epicly prank Steve, and he’s so confused because how the hell did his shoes end up on the window outside and when he confronts Tony he just laughs. What do you think?**

Steve looks at the window, dumbfounded at the sight before him.  Because, and if his eyes aren’t tricking him, his shoes are sticking to the window.   _On the outside._   “Uh, Friday?” Steve calls out to the AI hesitantly, still not completely used to talking to her.

 _“Yes, Captain Rogers?”_  Friday asks, sounding slightly mischievous and faux-innocent.

“Do you happen to know why my shoes are outside on the window?” Steve asks, rubbing his head as he stares at his favorite pair of running shoes.

 _“I do not have any footage of that event,”_ Friday says, sounding smug.  Steve furrows his eyebrows, suspicious, but decides to leave it alone.  He just shakes his head as he stares at the shoes once more.  Taking a step forward, he examines how they’re stuck to the window.  It appears that web? is wrapped around the pair of shoes and is holding them to the window.

 _Hmm…_  Steve thinks to himself.   _Didn’t Sam and Bucky mention something about a spider guy back in Germany?_   Now that he’s got the who, Steve has to get the why.  And he knows exactly who he’s going to ask.  But first, he needs to find a new pair of shoes.

Once he’s acquired a pair of running shoes, Steve makes his way down to the lab.  “Thanks, Friday,” Steve murmurs as he reaches the ground floor.  Steve immediately heads to his right and down the hall that only one person, or how many that he’s aware of, is allowed to be in.  Steve stands nervously outside of Tony’s lab, rapping on the door.

He hears a muffled “Let him in, Fri” past the AC/DC and the door slides open.  Tony’s sitting at his workbench, tinkering with his Iron Man suit.  “What’s up, Cap?” Tony says, lifting up his head and looking at Steve with a perked eyebrow.

“Uh, you know that spider guy from Germany?” Steve asks, standing awkwardly in the middle of the workshop, arms crossed over his chest.  When Tony continues to stare at him, he elaborates.  “He uses webs, right?  Do you know if he’s here?”

“Why?” Tony asks, placing down the part he was messing with and staring at him.  Steve just sighs and gestures Tony to follow him.

“You’ll see."  Tony drops his stuff, intrigued, and follows the soldier out of his workshop.  They make their way to the elevator and then up into the common room.  Once there, Tony looks around with a raised eyebrow.

"What am I looking for, here?” Tony asks the Captain.  Steve just points towards the window and Tony looks at where he’s pointing.  As soon as Tony sees the shoes, he bursts into laughter.  He laughs so hard, in fact, that the others that were still sleeping come out of their rooms to see what the fuss is about.  Steve just looks at him, unimpressed.  When Tony finally manages to stop laughing, all he does is clap Steve on the shoulder, shakes his head a few times, and makes his way back down to the lab.

“Wait!” Steve calls after him.  “What am I supposed to do?"  Tony just sends a wave towards the man as the elevator doors shut behind him.

It’s that afternoon when Tony next sees the perpetrator.  Peter’s sitting at his worktop, putting together a new webshooter design when Tony decides to speak up.  "So, something interesting happened this morning,” he says casually, seeing the kid freeze out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh?” Peter hums, sounding a tad nervous.  “What happened?”

“Nothing, really,” Tony says casually.  "Steve wanted to go on a run this morning only to find his shoes missing so he went out to the common room to look for them.  Turns out someone attached them to the window.  On the outside of the Compound.  With webs.“  Tony finally lifts his head and looks over at Peter who’s staring down at his hands.  "You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“What-?  No-oh-oh-oh-oh,” Peter says, not sounding convincing at all.  “Why would I know anything about Captain America’s shoes?”

Tony raises an eyebrow.  “Oh, so you’re telling me that you didn’t steal the poor Capsicle’s shoes and webbed them to the outside of the common room window with web fluid that you and I only happen to have access to?"  Peter looks guilty before a grin forms on his mentor’s face.  "Thanks, kiddo.  You’re not in trouble, I needed the laugh.”

The tension in Peter’s shoulders diminishes and a grin of his own forms on his face.  “Really?  I’m not in any trouble?"  Tony chuckles.

"Nope, though Steve does suspect that  _Spider-Man_  was involved, though,” the man says, looking at Peter from behind his safety glasses (because if Tony doesn’t want the kid to get hurt, he needs to set a good example and blah blah blah).  Peter’s face pales and Tony laughs.  “You may want to keep your identity on the down-low for now, kiddo.”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter says, a blush returning color to his face.  “Probably don’t want the group to find out a teen’s been webbing up all of their stuff.”

“You’ve done it to everyone!?"


	17. #17--April 30, 2019

**Leave him alone**

Peter cries out sharply as the knife hits him before he can move.  With having been so preoccupied getting the woman out of the alley and taking down her attacker, he had failed to notice the two men sneaking up on him until it was too late.  His senses warned him of the first man, who is now webbed to the alleyway wall, but not of the second man who was wielding a knife.  A knife that is now embedded in the side of his body.

"That wasn't very nice," Peter says, albeit a little weakly, as the man shoves him into the wall and therefore the knife further into his side.  He grunts and grabs onto the man's hand which is on the handle of the knife.  Peter bites his lip and tightens his grip on the man's hand so that he lets go of the knife before thrusting his hand out and throwing the man across the alley.  He webs the man up haphazardly as he keeps holding onto the knife in his abdomen.  Peter webs the knife until it can barely shift since the blade is partially out of his side and glares at the man.

He can vaguely hear Karen muttering some things into his ear about him being stabbed and losing some blood, but his narrowed eyes are on the three men.  After staring into their eyes for a few more seconds, Peter shakes his head and crawls up the side of the building, sitting heavily on the graveled rooftop and gasping in pain.

"Karen, please inform the police that three assailants are webbed up in this alley," Peter says, trying to keep his painful gasps at a minimum.

 _"Peter, it has come to my attention that you are in dire need of medical assistance,"_  Karen informs him.  Peter groans because he knows that that mean.  It means that Karen's going to call Mr. Stark.   _"Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?"_

"No, Karen," Peter says anyway, pulling himself to his feet and looking around himself.  "The Tower's right over there.  I'll swing over to get help."  The admission is soft because he has to get help from his mentor  _again_.

 _"Very well, Peter,"_  Karen says, sounding subdued and disappointed.   _"However, I must inform you that the knife is prone to shift due to how you've been stabbed.  Swinging will only enlargen the wound, possibly cause you to bleed out, and make the knife go deeper.  As it is now, the knife is only piercing your side and has not hit anything vital.  With medical assistance, I calculate that your wound will be healed within three to four days."_

"Great," Peter breathes out.   _At least I don't have to worry about going to school since it's the summer.  Now I just have to convince Aunt May to let me stay over at the Tower for a week._   "Hey, Karen, do you think that I could just jump over rooftops and then climb the side of the Tower?" Peter asks, the thought hitting him.  If swinging causes more damage, will jumping do the same?

 _"I have calculated that if you confirm that the knife has no possible way of shifting, jumping and climbing will not cause you any damage,"_  Karen informs him.  Peter nods his head and uses more webs than probably necessary.  He also webs a few strands around his lower abdomen since some of the webbing is not being as adhesive due to the amount of blood seeping through the side of his suit.

"Mr. Stark's going to  _kill me_ ," Peter mutters to himself as he finishes his makeshift bandage.  "Okay," he says, trying to pump himself up for the no doubt painful journey.  "Let's go.  You can do it."  After a few more moments of talking to himself, Peter sprints and jumps over the gap of the alley.  And he goes to the next building quickly because he can hear the sirens of the cop car coming to pick up the three guys.

The journey to the Tower isn't as bad as Peter would thought it'd be.  The knife hasn't shifted so far, though it's still pretty painful, and he seems to be making some decent timing for just jumping and climbing.  But now Peter's faced with one problem.  The Tower.  He has to climb over fifteen-hundred feet.

Remembering how long it took him to climb the Washington Monument, Peter reluctantly shoots a web to the Tower and flings himself to the side.  "Hey, Karen, can you tell me where Tony's at?" Peter asks the AI as he makes his way up the building.

 _"Mr. Stark is currently located in the common room,"_  Karen informs him.  Peter nods his head and uses the same technique he used on the Washington Monument to climb up the side of the tower.   _"I have calculated that if you continue climbing at this pace,"_  Karen informs him,  _"That you will reach the common room window in eight minutes."_

Peter grunts as he throws himself upward again.  "Okay," he pants slightly.  Peter throws himself upward again and again until he's pretty sure that he's only a minute or so away from the common room window.  "Karen, can you tell Mr. Stark that he's got incoming and to open the common room window closest to me?"

 _"Of course, Peter,"_  Karen says.  Up ahead, Peter sees the window open after a few more moments.  Peter can hear voices escape through the common room window but with the blood rushing through his ears, Peter can barely make out what they're saying let alone who they are.   _I really hope that I didn't interrupt something important._

Peter shoots a web a few yards above the window and pulls on the string, flinging him through the air and right into the window.  Peter yelps as he hands, hand pressing to his side and making contact with the knife and bloody webs.  Through blurry eyes, Peter looks up and notices that Tony  _was_  in something important.  And by the expressions on those present, Peter can tell that they were fighting.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark," Peter says, stumbling though his feet and gripping the chair of the kitchen table, effectively leaving a bloody handprint, "and sorry about all of the blood.  But, uh, I kinda need help."  All of the rogue Avengers are staring at him as Tony runs over to him, pulling his mask off and bearing his face to the crowd.

"Kid, what the hell happened?" Tony asks, hands gesturing to his side.

"I got stabbed," Peter deadpans as Tony sits him in the chair that he was leaning against.  "Karen told me that it's not major, though."

"'Not major', ' _not major'_?" Tony asks flippantly as he pulls a first-aid kit out of nowhere.  "Kid, you've been stabbed.   _Stabbed._   How is it not 'not major'!?"  Peter's face flushes because his mentor is flitting over him while a group of shocked Avengers look at him.  "Kid, you gotta take the suit off," Tony informs him as he pulls out different first-aid items.

Before Peter can say anything, a voice cuts him off.  "Tony, who's the kid?"  A look over Mr. Stark's shoulder provides that  _Captain freaking America--_ with a bear no less!--was the one to ask the question.

"Not now," Tony says, his voice like steel.  "Kid, you gotta get the suit off," Tony tells his, beginning to cut the webbing off of his suit.

"I can't," Peter murmurs, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment.  Tony lifts an eyebrow.  "I'm wearing only boxers underneath."  Tony rolls his eyes with a snort.

"Of course you are," Tony mutters under his breath.  "Okay, just peel down the top part.  You don't have to take your pants off or anything."  Peter just nods his head, pressing the spider emblem on his front and causing the suit to go slack.  He peels it down gently over the knife, biting his lip to hold in a whimper.  His side is sticky in blood, though he can already feel his side beginning to heal.

"Wait a second!" a voice suddenly says, causing Peter to flinch and look over at the Falcon.  "That's the spider guy from the airport!"  Peter feels his face pale and he exchanges a glance with Tony, whose eyes have become hard with a little panic.

"Tony, you brought a kid to a war?" Steve says in his very disappointed tone of voice.  Tony just ignores him as he grabs the handle of the knife.

"You ready kid?" Tony asks, making eye contact with Peter.  Peter sucks in a deep breath, nodding.  With one quick movement, Tony pulls away the knife and places a gauze pad with antiseptic on his side.  "I know, I know," he murmurs as Peter winces with a whimper.

"Tony," Steve says firmly, making the man look over at him.  "You brought a kid to Germany?  Into a _war?_   Where he could have gotten hurt, or worse, _killed_?  Did you only care about having more numbers on your side?"

"Yes, Rogers," Tony bites out, looking at the man.  "I brought a kid to Germany.  Happy now?"  Tony returns his attention back to Peter's side.  He pulls the gauze away slightly and sighs.  "You're going to need stitches, kid.  Not a lot, but you're going to need them."  His expression is warm as he looks at Peter because  _Peter hates needles_.

"Tony--" Steve goes to try again before he's cut off.

"Leave him alone," Peter bites out, his eyes steel as he stares into the Captain's eyes.  "Yes, he brought me to Germany but here's the thing,  _I wanted to go._ Before Germany, I was swinging around in a hoodie and sweatpants with homemade webshooters.  Mr. Stark gave me this suit as protection and it's perfectly capable of keeping me safe.  It may not seem like it right now since I just had a knife in my side, but before I got this suit, I was getting stabbed or hurt twice as often.  And don't you dare say that Mr. Stark only cares about himself."

The whole rooms is silent before it's broken by Tony.  "All done, kid," he says, rolling everything up in some gauze.  Peter looks down, shocked, to find that during his little rant that the man sewed up his wound and but a bandage over it.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," he says, looking at the man with a smile.  "Can I stay over here for the week, by the way?  May will freak out if she sees me hurt."  Peter puts on his best smile, forgetting about the group of gobsmacked superheroes.

Tony just rolls his eyes.  "Of course, kid.  Head on up to your room, I'll be up in a bit."  Peter pulls the top part of his suit back on and presses the spider emblem, making it a suit again.  Grabbing his mask, he walks past the Avengers, gives Steve one last glare, and disappears behind the elevator doors.


	18. #18--May 1, 2019

**Interrogating his son won’t help**

“Mr. Stark, I’m fine!” Peter says, reaching towards his backpack that Tony is currently holding.   Tony pulls it out of his reach and Peter winces as his side stings in pain.  Tony raises an eyebrow at the wince.

“I’m not letting you carry the bag, Pete,” Tony says, walking into the elevator, Peter stepping in beside him.  “You just got out of the medbay because you decided to go and  _get yourself shot_.  You’re so lucky that I didn’t call May about this.“  Peter visibly deflates at that, hissing as his ribs throb in pain.

"It only skimmed me,” he utters, crossing his arms over his chest.  “And besides!  It’s not I haven’t been shot before!”  Tony sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, because how could I not remember when Karen– _not you–_ called me because you decided _not to inform_  me that you were digging a  _bullet_  out of your leg with  _your eyebrow tweezers,"_ Tony says sarcastically as the elevator stops.

"They weren’t mine!” Peter stresses as he follows Tony out of the elevator and into the common room of the Avengers Facility.  “They were Aunt May’s!”

“That doesn’t make it better, kid,” Tony mutters, tossing Peter’s bookbag onto the couch.  “Go ahead and get started on your homework,” Tony looks up at the ceiling, “Friday, can you put  _Star Wars Episode IV_ on?”

 _“Of course, sir,”_  Friday says, the TV flicking on not even a second later.  Tony bustles around the room, brewing a new pot of coffee and tossing a few bags of popcorn in the microwave.  He grabs +some blankets out of the cupboard by the TV–a new addition after learning that Peter gets cold easily since he can’t thermoregulate anymore–and grabs the popcorn from the two microwaves and a cup of coffee.

Tony joins Peter on the couch where he’s in the middle of some complicated looking chemistry homework.  “Need any help, kid?” Tony asks, watching as Peter fills out his worksheet.  Not to his surprise, Peter shakes his head.

“I’m good, Dad,” Peter says, not even realizing that he’s said  _dad_  as he tends to do every once and a while.  “I’ve got it covered."  Tony just hums and covers the two of them in blankets before focusing on the movie.

It’s not even halfway into the movie until Peter’s finished with his homework.  There wasn’t too much assigned this weekend and he got most of it done on the four-hour drive up here, despite the fact that he got shot a little before Happy came to pick him up.  Peter had managed to hide his bleeding side from the man easily and it had actually scabbed over by the time that he arrived at the Facility, but apparently, he can’t hide anything from Tony, who met him at the Facility door.

Peter tosses his things to the side and scoots a little closer to Tony, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to feel his body heat.  Tony just sighs as he feels the spiderling sidle up beside him and wraps his arm around the kid, pulling Peter into his side.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter sighs, his head resting on the man’s shoulder.  Tony just brings a hand up and cards his fingers through Peter’s curls and hums contentedly.  The kid’s started to leave his curls alone after Tony mentioned that it calms him when they’re watching a movie together and end up cuddling.

It’s not long until Peter’s yawning and fighting off sleep.  The movie’s got about half an hour left but the methodical way that Tony runs his hand through Peter’s curls and the arc reactor’s soft buzzing begins to lull him to sleep.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Tony mutters catching sight of the time.  It’s been a long day for the both of them–it’s nearly nine at night–and that wound has to be zapping Peter’s energy.

Peter nods off with Tony’s reassurance and Tony just sits there, enjoying the moment with his kid.  That is until Friday interrupts him with less than favorable news.

 _“Sir, it appears that the ‘rogue’ Avengers are on their way up,”_  she says, causing Tony to curse under his breath.  He stills as Peter shuffles a little.  There isn’t enough time to even wake the kid, let alone get him a floor up where his and Tony’s bedrooms are, not that far away from the rest of the groups’.  And honestly, Tony doesn’t want to wake Peter up.

He’s noticed that the kid has been going out at random hours for patrol that is pass curfew–which they  _will_  be talking about–but he’s also noticed how the kid’s been a little more quiet and tired lately.  That only leads to one conclusion and that means that he’s been having nightmares, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin the little bit of uninterrupted sleep his kid seems to be getting.

Tony grimaces and decides to just let the group up and not disrupt Peter.  He knew that they’d be returning, the Accords had been revised for a few months and they’ve been pardoned for just as long.  He just hates that they’ve decided to come now  _when his kid is hurt_.

The dreaded ding of the elevator announces the arrival of the group and what they’re met with is Tony’s glare.  They haven’t seen Peter yet, but as they shuffle in sheepishly, they notice the bookbag, the movie, and the kid tucked into Tony’s side.  Clint opens his mouth to make a remark but Tony beats him to it.

“If any of you wake the kid, I will kill you.”  Clint promptly closes his mouth and Tony continues in a whisper.  "Your rooms are where you remember them and they’re untouched, but they might be a little bit dusty.  Now, get lost.“  Steve looks like he wants to say something but the muttering of the mystery kid cuts him off.

"Dad?”  The word’s a soft mutter, but with how quiet it is in the room–the TV had been muted–everyone heard it.  Everyone’s faces color in disbelief and shock and Tony sends them a stern glare before softening his gaze as he looks down at the kid cuddled into his chest.

“Yeah, Pete?” Tony asks, his voice low enough that only Peter can catch it.  His kid moves around a little before sitting up, rubbing at his eyes with a yawn.  Peter reaches for something, possibly a blanket that fell on the ground, before pulling back with a sharp hiss.

“Ow,” Peter groans, not yet noticing the group of stock-still superheroes.  “I think I tore my stitches.”  He rubs at his eyes a little more before looking around the room, almost immediately locking eyes with the rogue Avengers.  "Uh, Mr. Stark?”

Tony sighs.  “They just got up here, bud, don’t worry.  Blows aren’t going to be thrown around tonight,” Tony says, leaning up and looking at Peter’s side.  “Now, let me see if you actually tore your stitches.”

The rogue Avengers watch in shock and disbelief as the mystery kid lifts up his shirt and peels back a slightly bloodied bandage while Tony pulls a first-aid kit seemingly out of nowhere.  Even more shock is bestowed upon the group as they all realize the wound for what it is, a gunshot wound.  Peter and Tony don’t pay them any mind as Tony changes the bloodied gauze and tapes the wound up.  They may have gotten the wound checked out not even two hours ago, but Peter already managed to get quite a bit of blood on the gauze pad he had since apparently, the stitches pulled a bit when he was laying against Tony.

“Go on up to bed, kiddo,” Tony says, packing up the first-aid kit and putting it away.  “You can meet everyone tomorrow.“  Peter seems to want to say something but one stern look from Tony leaves him reaching for his bag.  "You can leave the bag down here, Pete,” Tony says, worried about Peter’s wound.  “I’ll bring it up in a bit.”

“Okay,” Peter says softly, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way past the group of still shocked superheroes.  “Night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo,” Tony says, sending a look to the group as they go to say something to Peter.  Tony waits until the elevator’s closed before sighing and beginning to clean up the mess that he and Peter made.  “Are you guys going to head up to your rooms or what?”

“You can’t just expect us to leave without asking you about the kid!” Clint sputters, gesturing wildly towards the elevator doors.  “I thought I was the only one with a secret family!”

Tony glares at Clint, clenching his jaw as he throws the blankets into the cupboard, not even bothering to fold them.  He tosses the popcorn away and grabs his cup of coffee.  “Tony, who is that kid?” Steve says cautiously, a frown marring his face.

“He’s none of your business, Rogers,” Tony grounds out, making his way to the elevator.  “Now if you need me, I’ll be in my lab.”  Another question makes him halt.

“He yours?” Natasha asks softly.  Tony grinds his teeth.

“Yeah,” he says finally.  “He’s mine.”  At that, he walks into the elevator, ignoring their questions as he makes his way to his lab for some well-deserved tinkering.

* * *

 

Peter rubs at his eyes as he sits up, blinking against the minimal light shining through the blinds.  He tenderly stretches to see if his side has healed and is delighted when there’s only a little ache.  Lifting up his shirt, which Peter recognizes to be an old  _Black Sabbath_  shirt that belongs to Mr. Stark, Peter looks down at his bandage.

There’s no blood on it, and when Peter slowly peels away the gauze pad, he’s faced with a nearly fully healed gunshot wound.  He estimates that the stitches can come out today and he’ll have to ask Mr. Stark if he can remove them for him.  Peter would remove them himself but he got a very long talk the last time he did so by both his nurse Aunt and Mr. Stark.

Letting the shirt fall back down, Peter jumps off his bed and heads into his bathroom.  After doing his business, and brushing his teeth because Mr. Stark commented on it the last time he didn’t, Peter heads down to the kitchen-slash-common room.

Friday takes him down without saying anything.  Peter’s stayed over enough that she knows the drill and only a few seconds later the elevator doors open, revealing the pardoned Avengers.  Peter freezes as half of them look over at him and Peter’s eyes shoot over to where Mr. Stark sits at the counter with a cup of coffee, and by how tired the man looks, Peter estimates that it’s only been his first or second cup.

Mr. Stark’s encouraging smile is all it takes for the teen to shuffle out of the elevator and into the organized chaos that is the Avengers’ morning routine.  Peter practically runs over to Tony, who lifts an eyebrow at his fast pace.  Or maybe it’s the  _Hello Kitty_  pajama pants that the man bought him as a gag present that makes the man lift his eyebrow.

Peter’s cheeks flush as he grabs himself a mug of coffee, using his Iron Man mug.  Peter studiously ignores the rest of the Avengers as he goes through his own morning routine.  Usually, he’d have cereal for breakfast, but during the weekends him and Mr. Stark have made a habit of cooking their own food.

As Peter begins to gather the ingredients and materials needed to make hash browns, Tony grabs the ingredients needed to make omelets.  Where it used to make him three hours to make one of them, Peter’s helped him turn that time into three minutes.  When Peter goes to shred the first potato, Tony stops him.

“No, gimme that,” Tony says, putting down his bowl of beaten eggs, “you lost your shredding privileges after you cut yourself last time."  Tony makes a grabbing motion and Peter pouts.

"But, Mr. Stark–!” Peter starts, only to be cut off by Tony.

“Uh, uh, nope.  No whining.  Gimme the shredder, you can make the omelets for a change,” Tony says, lifting an eyebrow when Peter continues holding onto it.  The Avengers look on as the two go into a staring match, and just like it started, it ends.  Peter hands over the cheese grater with a huff and a put and grabs the bowl of half-beaten egg and the fork.  With surprising expertise, Peter finishes whisking the egg up and makes his way over to one of the two skillets on the stove.

“I can still cook it, right?” Peter asks Tony with puppy dog eyes.  Tony just rolls his eyes, making Peter grin.  The teen pours the egg into the skillet, jumping back as it crackles loudly.  Adding things to skillets have never been his favorite part of cooking.

Tony ends up next to him in a few minutes with a plate stacked with shredded potatoes, adding another skillet to the stove.  The two cook side by side, Tony continuously checking the hash browns to make sure they don’t burn, and Peter adding cheese, pepper, and some other things to his omelet.  He’ll end up making about five or six more, four for him, two for Mr. Stark.  Mr. Stark will make a few large hash browns for Peter, and two small ones for him in turn.

Only a few minutes go by before the two begin plating their own portions, bickering along the way.  The group of Avengers share a few looks, their already prepared breakfast in their laps.  “We’re going to interrogate him, right?” Clint asks Natasha, flinching as the woman in question flicks him in the forehead.  “Ow,” he whines, rubbing his head.  “What was that for?”

Natasha, ever the peacekeeper, replies, “We just got back and you want to get Tony mad at us?  Leave the kid alone, Clint.”

“He’s not wrong,” Sam comments with a shrug.  “We’re all curious about the kid and there’s no joke that you are, too."  Steve sends him a stern look which he ignores.

"It doesn’t matter,” Steve cuts in, eating a slice of pancake.  “We’ve got to get back into Tony’s good graces if we want to continue staying here.  Interrogating his son won’t help."  Unbeknownst to them, Peter can hear every single thing that they can hear, and by the end he’s grinning.

"What’s the grin for, Pete?” Tony questions as he turns the burners off, moving the skillets onto the other ones to cool off.

“Hawkeye and Falcon want to interrogate us,” Peter says, his grin growing larger, “and Captain America thinks I’m your son."  That last comment gets an immediate reaction from the man as he begins hacking on a piece of his omelet.  Peter immediately slaps his back as Tony flounders around for a drink.  The man chokes back about half of his mug of coffee before looking at the kid with teary eyes, ignoring the concerned and confused looks of the people in the living room.

"What?” he croaks out at Peter’s grin.  It’s not long until a grin of his own is spreading across his face, making Peter narrow his eyes at him in suspicion.  “Hey, kid, how would you like to be my son?"  It’s Peter’s turn to choke on his food but he does so a little more gracefully as the man slaps his back a few times.

"What?  What’re you talkin’ about?” Peter asks after gulping down his own mug of coffee.

“I’m saying that we don’t tell them that you’re my intern,” Tony whispers with a grin so that the super soldier in the next room doesn’t hear him.  “They already believe you’re my son, and you gotta admit, you’re dressed in my clothes and some  _Hello Kitty_  pants that I bought you.”

“So you want us to lie to them?” Peter asks with a raised eyes brow.  Tony nods his head and a grin spreads across Peter’s face.  “Okay, Dad."  Tony just grins at him before messing up his hair, gaining a yelp from the kid.


	19. #19--May 2, 2019

**Prompt:**   **In the middle of an Avengers’ meeting, Tony gets a call from Peter’s phone. He thinks nothing’s wrong until another man answers, demanding he pay for the family he lost. There’s a gunshot and Tony is immediately suited up and in the air towards Peter’s last location. When he returns to the others, he’s holding a bleeding Peter in his arms. Severity of the shot and Avengers’ reactions vary.**

"We need to do this quickly," Steve says, leaning over a hologram map of the Hydra base.  "Get in and get out.  My sources say that this base is small and that they have a lot of intel about the experiments going on in other bases."

There's been a string of bodies showing up all over the US, not long from where the missing person was taken from.  Each body shows up from between one and three months, all showing various evidence of the person being experimented on.  The Sokovia Accords came to the Avengers for help, who had already been building up sources to search for the Hydra bases who were experimenting on people.

The Accords have given the Avengers the freedom that they needed to still run as a group, though there is still some limitations and guidelines.  They have to abide by the rules and send in reports of each mission they go on, and they must go on the missions that the Accords require them to.  There are many other different rules that they must abide by, but those are a little more than flexible.

"I think we should do two teams," Rhodey says from beside Tony.  "One to distract the guards and one to actually gather the information that we need."

Sam shakes his head.  "We can't risk letting them know that we know where they are," Sam points out, and much to Tony's disgust, he actually agrees.  "They'll be updating their information weekly and we can leave them running while leeching off the information that they have."

"Sam's right," Natasha joins in.  "We need to--"  She's cut off by the sound of Tony's phone spouting out  _Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can_  from when a Spider-Man fan made Spider-Man his very own theme song.

Shamelessly, Tony pulls his phone out of his pocket and answers the call.  "Hey, kid what's--?"  His question is cut off by a voice that is very much  _not his._

 _"Hello, Tony Stark,"_  Tony's smile turns into a hard line as his face pales.  The sudden change gathers the attention of the exasperated Avengers who were looking at him in annoyance.

"Who is this?" Tony asks, priding himself for managing to keep his voice calm.

 _"Who I am doesn't matter, Tony Stark, but who I have_ does _,"_ the man says.

"And who do you have?" Tony asks as he puts the phone on speaker and slowly places it on the table, trying to sound like his normal confident self even though his heart sinks.  From the corner of his eye, he can spot Natasha messing around with his hologram screens and he has an idea that she's trying to trace the call.

 _"Your little intern, Peter is it?"_ the man hums into the phone.  Tony's face pales as his suspicions are confirmed and Tony can see Wanda cover her mouth with her hands in shock.  _"I have him here.  He's a scrawny kid, isn't he?  Doesn't really seem worth your time, if you ask me."_

"Good thing no one's asking you, then," Tony snarks back, trying to buy Natasha some time to finish tracing the call and to also defend his kid's honor.

 _"Big words coming from a helpless man,"_  the man on the other side of the phone says.   _"I have your kid, Stark, because you took my family from me.  And I'm not just going to kill him.  This kid seems a little... special.  I'm going to see what makes this kid tick.  And then I'm going to use it against you._ And then _I'm going to kill him.  Right in front of your eyes.  While you stand there.  Helpless.  How does that sound, Stark?"_

"I say it sounds a little sadistic," Tony says, inwardly cursing himself as his voice shakes a little.  The man on the other side chuckles.  And it's a chuckle that makes Tony's skin crawl.

 _"How would you like to talk to him?"_ the man asks, and then,  _"Go on kid, say 'hi' to 'Mr. Stark'."_ Tony's jaw clenches at the mocking tone.

 _"Mr-Mr. Stark?"_   Tony's breath hitches at the kid's voice.  It's weak and groggy and so unlike Peter's usually exuberant voice.  And the thing that hurts more?  The kid actually sounds like he's trying to sound like normal.   _And he's failing._

"Hey, kiddo," Tony says in a whisper.  "Are you alright?"

 _"I'm-I'm g-good, Mr. Stark,"_ Peter says weakly.   _"Are you-are you ok--?"_   Peter's voice is cut off and Tony has a feeling that the man ripped the phone away from the kid.

 _"That's enough,"_  the man says sharply to Peter before he returns his voice to Tony.   _"And our first experiment:  How fast can a bullet to the leg heal?"_   Before Tony can say another thing, a gunshot rings out, followed by a weak groan that Tony recognizes to Peter.  _"Huh.  He's stronger than I thought."_   The line goes dead.  Tony's grip on the table tightens so much that his knuckles turn white.  He looks up at Natasha, hoping that she got something.

"I got a region.  Southwestern America," Natasha says, plopping down in her chair.  "I'm sorry, Tony.  I'm so sorry."

"Dammit!" Tony shouts, slamming his clenched hand on the table.  The glass splinters.

"Tony, you don't think...?" Rhodey trails off, gesturing towards the hologram map of the Hydra base that holds the intel on where experiments on people take place.

"That the fucker that has Peter is Hydra?" Tony snaps.  "Yeah, I fucking do."

**End of Part I**


	20. #20--May 3, 2019

**Prompt:**   **In the middle of an Avengers’ meeting, Tony gets a call from Peter’s phone. He thinks nothing’s wrong until another man answers, demanding he pay for the family he lost. There’s a gunshot and Tony is immediately suited up and in the air towards Peter’s last location. When he returns to the others, he’s holding a bleeding Peter in his arms. Severity of the shot and Avengers’ reactions vary.**

Peter squints against bright lights, turning his head away as it becomes too much on his senses.  He's estimated that he's been at this place for about two or three days.  He hasn't been given anything to eat and has only had a few sips of water to drink and he hadn't eaten anything all day before he was taken.  And now with the blood loss and the abuse to his senses?  He's not sure if he can survive any longer without any food.  Peter just hopes that Mr. Stark finds him before he gets seriously injured.

The bullet had gone straight through his leg, and a quick examination shows that it's mostly healed.  The wound should have completely healed after about a day and a half, but there's still a scab.  At this point, a faded pink scar would be visible and would last for about a week or two.

"Ah, you're awake," the now familiar sound of the unfamiliar raspy voice says, his footsteps clattering loudly against the concrete stairs.  Each loud step stabs at Peter's head but he doesn't let it show.  "Now, are you ready to talk about Tony Stark?"

"I won't tell you anythin'," Peter says, narrowing his eyes at the man.  The man, a tall man with an unruly beard and a bald head, just shakes his head like he not only expected the answer but he is disappointed by it.

"Then we'll go back to seeing what makes you tick, little spider," the man says, picking up a needle.  Peter stiffens minutely and the man notices.  Peter's always been a little weary around hospitals and needles, and so far he's been stuck about five different times by this man.

"So, why're you doing this?" Peter asks, not only genuinely curious about the reason the man kidnapped him and is experimenting on him, but also trying to buy himself some more time from more pain.  "Like, don't all of you super villains have a motive to do all of the things you do.  You know, I once saw this really old movie where this guy--"

"Shut up!" the man shouts, causing Peter's jaw to click shut.  "Just, shut up, kid!  I don't understand why Stark keeps you around."

"Oh, that's easy," Peter hums, overcoming his shock from the shout.  "Let's see...  I'm smart, I help him in the lab, I get him coffee--"

"Kid!"  Peter, once again, stops talking.  "You want to know why I'm doing this, yeah?  Well, you're little hero killed my family.  That's simple enough, really.  And as for experimenting on you?  I plan on selling my notes and findings to Hydra to do whatever I can to take the Avengers down."

"They'll find me," Peter says, closing his eyes as another needle pierces his skin.  The lights are bright enough that closing his eyes is no help.  "Mr. Stark will find me.  And he'll put you in jail."  The man just chuckles, purposely jiggling the needle around.

"We're off the grid, spider," the man says.  "The only way that they will find me is if I tell them where you are."

"You don't know Mr. Stark like I do," Peter says.  "And I think you're forgetting one fact."  The man hums.

"And what's that?"

"You're not only hiding from Mr. Stark, but you're also hiding from the rest of the Avengers."

**End of Part II**

***sorry that it's short***


	21. #21--May 4, 2019

**Prompt:**   **In the middle of an Avengers’ meeting, Tony gets a call from Peter’s phone. He thinks nothing’s wrong until another man answers, demanding he pay for the family he lost. There’s a gunshot and Tony is immediately suited up and in the air towards Peter’s last location. When he returns to the others, he’s holding a bleeding Peter in his arms. Severity of the shot and Avengers’ reactions vary.**

Peter blinks blearily as the rough fabric of the sack is pulled off of his face, scrunching his eyes up at the pain the bright lights bring him.  He can feel the presence of a lot of people around him but his vision is so blocked with black spots that he can't see them.  What he  _can_  see, though, is the red blinking light of what appears to be a camera when his vision adjusts to the bright lights.

He looks around him dazedly and in confusion, eyebrows scrunching up as he looks around him.  Peter tenses when he feels hands grab at his arms and a hand in his hair, wrenching his head upwards.  Suddenly, everything isn't so confusing anymore.  He doesn't know where he is, yes, but what he  _does_  know is that he wasn't brought here willingly.

"Le' go o' me," he slurs, pulling at the arms holding onto him.  The hand in his hair tightens and he takes that as his cue to stop moving.

"Hello, Tony Stark," one of the men from behind him say loudly towards the camera.   _Mr. Stark?_   Peter's eyes lock onto the camera lens, a big sense of _oh no_  filling him.  "We have something of yours, as you can see," the man tugs on his hair a little more, practically baring his throat at the camera, "and I'm pretty sure you'd like him back.  So here's the deal, we'll send you a location and in turn, you'll drop off three million dollars.  Cash."

Peter mentally scoffs.  No way in _hell_ will Mr. Stark do that.  "And if you don't?" the man continues.  "We'll give you a little  _motivation._ "  The man jerks at Peter's hair again, knocking him down on his butt before wrenching him up to stand.  Peter stumbles and wavers from side to side before forcing him to stand up.  Still, he doesn't remove his eyes from the camera lens.  And he  _hopes_  Mr. Stark can see what he's telling him.   _Don't you_ dare _do it Mr. Stark._

Peter's wrenched away from the camera after a few more moments of the man spouting nonsense Peter hears the man mention something about Mr. Stark but his hearing is all fogged up.  He's dragged down a long musky hallway with one lonely light swinging back and forth.  He can  _swear_  that it's creaking, mocking him, reminding him of all of those horror movies that he watches...  Peter's cut out of his thoughts when one of the men pull open a very creepy looking metal door and he's thrown into it.

Peter winces as his elbows bruise against the rough dirty concrete floor, his mind still a little foggy but clearing up as the man blocks the light from coming into the small room.  Peter looks up at him with a small glare.  "'e won' do it," he murmurs out, looking the man in the eyes.  "He  _won't_.  He'll find you."

The man does nothing but look at him with a malicious grin.  "He'll do it, kid.  Eventually."

The door's slammed in his face.

 

Tony gets the video two days later, but there's another one attached to it.  The team were in the middle of a conference meeting when Friday informed Tony of a video from an unknown source.   _"Boss, it appears that two videos from an unknown source has been sent to you."_

All of the speaking in the room halts as Tony looks upwards in confusion.  "You can't trace where they're from?" Tony questions, frowning and sharing a look with Rhodey.

 _"No, sir,"_  Friday says, and then,  _"They appear to hold sensitive information pertaining to Mr. Parker's whereabouts."_ Tony sits up straight at that.  He hadn't known the kid was missing.  May hadn't messaged him about Peter though she could have thought that Peter was with him.  They were known to spend a few days together white forgetting to inform the other of where the kid was.

"What do you mean that it holds 'sensitive information pertaining to Mr. Parker's whereabouts'?" Tony asks, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach.  His eyes flicker over to Rhodey's and it appears that he holds the same thought as him.  "Friday, play the videos."

The hologram screen lights up and the video starts off dark but then there's a flash of light, déjà vu hitting Tony in the chest.  Five men are surrounding a strangely familiar figure who sits in a kneeling position, a dark colored sack covering his face from view.  It's not long until the sack is ripped off of the figure's head, revealing that it  _is_  in fact Peter.

Tony's face pales as the men begin to talk.  His eyes don't leave Peter's as they stare unblinking at the screen.  "Hello, Tony Stark," the man says with a suspiciously familiar accent.  "We have something of yours, as you can see," the man pulls at Peter's hair, making Tony narrow his eyes in anger, "and I'm pretty sure you'd like him back.  So here's the deal, we'll send you a location, and in turn, you'll drop off three million dollars.  Cash."  Tony can see something flash in the kid's eyes at that.  "And if you don't?  We'll give you a little motivation."

Tony's knuckles are white when the man pulls his kid up by his hair roughly, making him stumble in the arms of the other two men.  "Now, Tony Stark, this seems a little familiar, does it not?" the mystery man says, making Tony clench his teeth  _because of course he finds it familiar._   "The sack, the disorientation, the video?"  The man lets out a wry grin and suddenly Tony recognizes the man.   _He was in the Ten Rings._   And now Tony's face pales even more and he can see Rhodey's face on him because Rhodey saw the video, too.  "I'm sure you know what comes next, don't you Stark?"

Tony's fists are suddenly shaking as the video clip ends.  Friday immediately starts the second video and Tony's breaths are labored.  The kid is kneeling before a tub of what he's sure is water and he looks almost as disoriented as last time, though his eyes are holding something akin to fear.

Tony's breaths are coming in pants and his chest is heaving and he's shaking and oh god he's there again, he's shaking in the cold before the water, and  _god doesn't Tony remember that._   There were a few different sessions of Tony being waterboarded, not just the one before the video.  They did it after the video, too, just to get their point across.

Tony can hear muffled voices in the background but all he can see is Peter's head dunked under the water, his body writhing under the grasp of the men  _and he should be able to get out of their holds._   The voices of his teammates flood through his ears, but he can barely make them out, and he flinches when someone places a hand on his shoulder because he thinks that they're going to dunk him in the water again.

"-ony," he can barely make out.  "-ony it's okay...  your okay."  He's gasping and he can hear Peter gasping and god why is he so cold?  "Tony, it's okay.  It's all okay."  The words are beginning to make sense again.  And that voice is familiar.  "Tony, listen to me.  You're at the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York.  You're safe, you're not in Afghanistan, do you hear me?  You're not in a cave, you're not getting waterboarded.  You're in a conference room in Upstate New York.  Tony--"

Tony cuts him off.  "Rhodey?" he chokes out, his chest still heaving as his heartbeat begins to slow.  "Rhodes..."  He shakes his head back and forth, eyebrows furrowing as he looks around him.  He's no longer sitting in his chair, instead he's on the floor, Rhodey in front of him and the concerned expressions of his team surrounding him.  "God,  _Peter_..."

Rhodey's face softens.  "It's okay, Tony, we're going to get him back.   _We're going to get him back._ "  And Tony nods because of course they are.   _They have to._   But first, he needs to call May.   _She needs to know what's up with her kid._

 

Peter awakes shivering on the cold concrete floor, his clothes still damp from this morning's waterboarding.  It's been going on for the past five days and all Peter can think of is how cold and hungry he is.  These men don't know that he has a heightened metabolism, they don't know that he can't thermoregulate properly.  If Peter were able to look at his fingers he's pretty sure that they would be blue at this point.

He flinches as the door leading to the cellar slams open.  He pulls himself onto his feet, falling into the wall with a groan, before pushing himself to his feet.  He can feel himself becoming weaker and it's no help that the men are keeping him drugged.  He can feel the places where the drugged needles must have stuck him even though his accelerated healing--despite the exhaustion and the lack of proper nutrients--has healed them.

The door barges open open and Peter fights against the hands grabbing at him despite knowing that it's no use.  The three men drag him down the hallway as he yells at them.  Instead of going to the room with the freezing water bucket, however, they drag him into a different room.  They push him into a chair, struggling as chains are locked around his arms and ankle.  Peter pulls against them but he's too weak to break the chains.   _Must be reinforced,_ he thinks dully.

"Now," the man in charge says, sitting across from him.  "Stark has yet to drop off the money and you're going to give me some information about him."  Peter narrows his eyes at him, scoffing.

"Like hell I am," he snarls out, tugging against the chains.  "I'm not tellin' you anything."  The man narrows his eyes at him before smirking.

"Like I said, you will," the man says, pressing a button.  Peter's eyes widen and his hands pull upwards in an attempt to cover his ears.  He curls his head downwards in an attempt to block them from the ear-splitting sound.  He scrunches his eyes shut, whimpering as the noise gets louder and louder.  After about thirty seconds, the noise stops and Peter slumps in his chair.  "Now, what do you know about Tony Stark?"

"He's Iron Man," Peter mutters weakly, head rolling on his shoulders.  "He likes coffee and--"  The high pitched ringing starts again and Peter curls in on himself in pain.   _God that hurts._

"Tell me how to get into his AI," the leader says after a few seconds.  Peter chuckles weakly at that, lifting his head just enough to give the man a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic look.

"D'you think I know how to hack Friday?" he asks sarcastically.  " _Tony Stark_  made her.  There's not way that I can hack into her."  The man presses the button again and Peter whines, unable to hold it in.  Waterboarding him?  Fine.  Beating him?  Okay, yeah.  But using his senses against him?  Yeah, that's a hard no.

The man opens his mouth, no doubt about to say something else before a thunking sound from above can be heard.  The man looks over at his two cronies and nods towards the door.  The two leave silently and the man turns back to Peter.  "What did you do?" he snarls at him and Peter gives him this look that says  _What d'you mean?  I've been here the whole time._   "Tell me, kid!" the man yells, leaning over the table and grabbing the collar to Peter's shirt.  "What did you do?"

"It wasn't me who did it!" Peter says, his heightened hearing--despite how battered it now is--picking up the familiar sounds of fighting.  "You're the one who sent the videos to Mr. Stark."  The familiar whirring of Mr. Stark's suit repulsers making him slump against the chair because  _he's here.  He's finally here._

Peter grins at the man and the man snarls at him.  "What are you smirking at?" he asks, jerking Peter.  Peter drops the smile but doesn't stop making eye contact.

Right on time, the door blasts open, startling the man so hard that he falls backwards, scrambling from his gun.  A perfectly aimed repulser blast knocks the gun away and Tony knocks the man out before rushing over to Peter who suddenly feels a little more tired.  Tony rips the bonds off him and Peter can hear him say in a relieved voice, "I got him.  I'm taking him to the jet."  Despite his protests, Tony pulls Peter into his arms, sprinting through the corridors before taking to the air.

Peter curls up in a ball as Tony flies into the jet, setting him down on a cot.  Bruce immediately rushes to him, eyes widening as he sees the kid.  He looks up at Tony worriedly as the man steps out of the suit, gesturing for his suit to go help out with the cleanup.  He touches Peter's arm and swears at how cold it is, immediately setting himself beside the kid and wrapping his as Bruce brings him a few thermal blankets.

It's not long until the rest of the group jump into the jet, Natasha informing them that her and Clint are going to stay behind to talk to authorities.  Tony just nods, keeping an eye on the kid as he shivers in his grasp, teeth chattering and eyes drooping.  "Hey, hey," Tony says softly.  "Don't go to sleep, okay, bud?"

"But I'm tired," Peter whines.  Tony looks over at Bruce sharply.

"He should be fine," Bruce says.  "He has a mild case of hypothermia but it's lessening quickly.  So long as we wake him up every fifteen or so minutes, he should be fine.  He's got some bruises and a few bones that are in various stages of healing, but overall, he's fine."

Tony sighs in relief and cards his fingers through his kid's hair.  "Go to sleep, Pete," he whispers.  Go to sleep."

**End of Peter Parker's kidnapping**


	22. #22--May 5, 2019

**Dad?**

"Hey, kid, how was your day?" Tony asks, driving off when Peter jumps into the car.

"It was great!  Had a Spanish test that I actually studied for, so that's good.  We had an assembly today so classes were shorter than normal, which was even better.  And--hey!  Where are we going?" Peter asks, looking over at Tony as they don't head in the direction of the Compound.

"We," Tony says, flashing him a smile, "are going to this cute little Italian restaurant.  And before you say anything,  _no_ , I am not going to let you pay, Peter, and don't you even think of choosing the cheapest item on the menu because this restaurant is not the most expensive place in the universe and I am literally a billionaire."

Peter's jaw clicks close from where he was going to bring up that exact thing.  "What's it called?" he asks instead.

" _La Regina_ ," Tony says, looking over at Peter with a raised eyebrow.  "You know what it means?"  The kid scoffs, sounding offended that the man thinks that he doesn't know what the restaurant title means.

"The Queen," Peter tells him smugly.  Peter had once let it slip that he knew Italian when he was little but he and his aunt hadn't gotten into the habit of speaking it when he started middle school.  Tony, also needing to practice his Italian, offered to start speaking in Italian to the kid.  Tony's teased Peter endlessly because it turns out that the kid is rustier than Tony was even though the last time the man spoke the language was over a decade ago.

"You sure about that?" Tony teases the kid, making Peter roll his eyes.  "Guess where the restaurant is."  Peter blinks at the sudden change.

"Um... Queens?"  Peter asks, making Tony smirk at him.

"Nope, Brooklyn."  Peter stares at him blankly for a few moments before Tony breaks his composure, laughing as Peter stares at him.  "What?  It is in Queens.  And that was a good joke!"

"No, no it wasn't, Mr. Stark," Peter says before shaking his head.  "That was  _such_  a dad joke."

"Well I'm not a dad, am I?"  Tony snarks back at him.  "How can it be a dad joke if I'm not a dad?"  He rolls his eyes at Peter's burst of laughter, shoving his shoulder as he parks the car.  "C'mon, let's go."

Peter jumps out of the car, excited, staring up at the restaurant.  It's near a lot of the other fancy restaurants in Queens, restaurants that he and his aunt can't afford.  Tony whistles to catch Peter's attention, throwing an arm over the kid's shoulders and pulling him into the restaurant door.

Tony talks with one of the staff as Peter looks at the interior.  It's not long before the man's pulling him up the stairs nearby and into a more private room where there are fewer people to recognize Tony Stark.  "This is a great little place, isn't it?" Tony says, picking up the menu and looking it over, Peter doing the same.

"It's really cool, Mr. Stark!  Thanks for bringing me!" Peter says, grinning at his mentor and looking at the menu as well.  "What are you thinking of getting?  I'm thinking of... lasagna.  What about you?"  Tony raises an eyebrow at Peter's choice of food.

"What?  No pizza?" Tony asks sarcastically.  "I think I'll get the lasagna, too, then.  And maybe a small pizza on the side."  Peter hums at the choice, his eyes lighting up.

"Margherita of Naples?" Peter asks, making Tony nod his head.

"Great!" Tony says, clapping and rubbing his hands together, nodding to the waiter who had been standing off to the side waiting for them to make their choices.  "Two lasagnas, a small Margherita of Naples pizza, and two waters, please."  The waiter nods and immediately runs off, leaving Peter and Tony to themselves.

"So, what's the reason you brought me here?" Peter asks, leaning on his hand.  Tony raises an eyebrow and him and Peter rolls his eyes.  "Every time you've taken me to a restaurant you've either told me that you have a mission that I can't go on, a mission that I  _can_  go on, or something important has happened."

Tony shakes his head, mentally cursing the kid for being so smart.  "Okay, nothing bad has happened, kid," Tony starts, ignoring Peter's sarcastic look.  "Really, I'm not joking.  It's just that I wanted to ask you something.  Something important."  Peter looks at Tony in slight worry, sitting up in his seat and looking at his mentor in concern.

"Is something wrong?" Peter asks immediately, eyes widening slightly.

"No!  No, no, no, no, no.  Nothing's wrong, Pete," Tony says, waving his hands back and forth slightly.  "It's just that the Rogues have been pardoned and they'll be coming over to the Compound a few weeks after school ends for you."  Tony hesitates for a few moments at Peter's furrowed eyebrows.  "And I wanted to know if you wanted to spend the summer at the Compound with me.  And before you say anything about your aunt, she's going on vacation with Happy."

Peter makes a slightly disgusted look.  The two had been seeing each on the days that Peter stayed at the Compound.  Tony had been asking the man to take May to work and back home and it seems like they've gotten to know each other over that time.  Chuckling at Peter's look, Tony perks an eyebrow.  "So what d'you say, kid?  Wanna spend the summer over at the Compound?  And don't worry about your aunt.  She's already told me that you can spend the summer with us.  So, what do you think?"

Peter's eyes light up as a grin grows on his face.  "Of course!  Oh my God, it's going to be so much fun!  We can spend more time in the labs and I can go on more missions, and it's going to be so much fun!"  Tony grins as the kid keeps chatting on about all of the things that they can do now that he'll be staying there full time, only stopping when the waiter, a different one this time, brings their food.

Tony nods to them and they both dig in, conversing about what they can do over the summer.  Apparently, there's this MIT competition where kids in high school can join a science fair for a chance to win a scholarship to the school.  And if Tony makes a mental note of that?  Nobody needs to know.

Throughout eating their meal, everything is normal.  It's only when Peter begins to eat the pizza that he worries.  Peter frowns after finishing the first slice of the food, blinking in confusion.  Tony puts down his fork, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.  "Pete, what's wrong?"

Peter shakes his head.  "Dizzy," he murmurs, his chest beginning to heave.  "C-Can't breathe.  Some-somethin's wrong."  When Peter begins to slump in his chair, Tony takes action.

"Hey, you!" Tony shouts at the nearby waiter, startling the kid.  "Pack up our food for us, quickly!"  Tony grabs Peter's wrist, feeling for a pulse, swearing under his breath as the waiter finishes packing up their food in take-out containers.  "Here, keep the change," Tony says, activating his nanotech armor prototype and throwing a couple hundreds at the poor waiter.  Grabbing his kid and the food, Tony flies off as quickly as he can, telling Friday to get someone to pick up his car for him.

It takes ten minutes to reach the Compound, a startling feat considering how far away it is from Queens.  "What's wrong with him?" Helen asks as Tony flies into the medical wing, putting the kid on a bed.  Tony shakes his head.

"I don't know, but I think he's been poisoned," Tony says, his voice coming out in a panic.

"Tell me the symptoms," the woman orders Tony, grabbing a q-tip to gather the kid's DNA.  "Friday, run every possible test on this, will you?  Do you have what he was eating, that would be helpful."  Tony all but throws the take-out containers at the woman, who puts them in a machine that Tony recognizes as a mass spectrometer. 

"He-He told me that he was dizzy," Tony stutters out, disengaging his suit and beginning to pace, keeping a careful eye on his half-conscious kid.  "And that he couldn't breathe, but he was breathing _fine_.  And he didn't say it though I know that he had a headache."  Helen nods her head as she checks Peter's pupil dilation.

"Friday, what d'you got for us?" Helen asks the AI, looking over at the machine that can run every test possible on Peter's DNA.

 _"It appears that Mr. Parker has been poisoned with cyanide,"_  she informs them, making Tony's face pale.   _"The best course of action would be to use the CYANOKIT."_   A cabinet door pops open, revealing the kit.  Tony runs over to it, grabbing it as Helen gives the kid an IV line.

"Give it to me," Helen says, grabbing the small bottle.  "Usually you'll administer the antidote over a fifteen minute period, though with Peter's abilities we can use it as an injection."  **(This is complete bullshit and false.)** As she says this, she grabs a syringe, and puts it into the IV, pushing down the plunger.

Tony doesn't remove his eyes from Peter as the woman administers the antidote.  "Okay, that's all?" Tony asks the woman as she begins cleaning everything up.

"Yep, that's all," the woman says, throwing the items away.  "He'll be fine, though I'd advise you have the police investigate who gave you that pizza.  That's what was poisoned."  Tony nods his head.  He already had the police notified when he flew over to the compound.

"Thanks, Helen," Tony calls out as she walks out of the room.  She nods her head, closing the door and leaving the unconscious kid alone with him.

 _"Sir?  If I may?"_  Friday says tentatively into the room.

"What's up, Fri?"

 _"Something came up when I analyzed Mr. Parker's DNA,"_  the AI says, causing Tony to sit up in worry.

"What's wrong?" he asks, worry easily leaking into his voice.

 _"Nothing is wrong sir, though it appears that yours and Mr. Parker's DNA shares multiple similarities,"_  she says, making Tony tense up and look up at the ceiling in confusion.

"What are you saying, Friday?"

 _"When Doctor Cho told me to run every test possible, I did,"_  Friday informs the man.   _"That included a paternity test.  And it appears that you and Mr. Parker share the same DNA.  You and Mr. Parker appear to be father and son, Boss."_

Tony freezes for a few minutes.  "W-What?  How is that possible?  Peter's father died with his mother.  I  _am not_  his father.  That's impossible," Tony splutters.

_"It is entirely possible, sir."_

"You're telling me that I have a kid?" Tony asks. "That  _this kid_ ," he gestures to Peter, "is  _mine._ "

_"It appears so, Boss."_

Tony's next statement is cut off by a very groggy sounded murmur.  "Dad?" Peter says, his head lolling to the side to look at Tony.  Tony freezes at the question.  Peter's begun to call the man his dad, but now it has a different meaning.   _Because it is truer than either of them thought._

"Yes, Pete?" Tony asks.

"Are you my dad?" _And shit the kid heard everything._

**First of a series, I guess**


	23. #23--May 6, 2019

**When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fifth birthday, he went to his Aunt and Uncle's house for the week.**

"Have fun with your Aunt May and Uncle Ben!" his mother shouted as she jumped into the car where his father sat behind the wheel.  "I love you, sweetie!"  Peter fiddled with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.  He was pretty small for an almost five-year-old and due to this his clothes were a little bigger on him than other kids his age.

"I love you, Mama," Peter said, standing in front of his Aunt and Uncle.  "Love you, Daddy!"  His father sent him a grin.

"See you soon, buddy," the man told him, sounding as if he'd said it hundreds of times beforehand.  "Remember, it'll only be for a week.  We'll be back by Saturday."  Peter nodded his head solemnly, watching as his parents prepared to drive to the airport where their plane sat waiting.  Peter didn't know much about his mom and dad's work, he just knew that they did a lot of complicated science stuff and that they had to leave a lot.

This wasn't the first time that he'd had to stay with his Aunt and Uncle.  It was always just a little harder to say goodbye to them, that's all.  But this time, it felt different.  Peter's stomach felt heavy.

His mother looked at the car dash before looking at him.  "I'm sorry, baby, but we gotta go now or we'll miss our flight.  Be good for your Aunt and Uncle, Peter," she told him, making the boy run toward the car that sat a few feet away.  Peter latched onto the side of the car where the window had been rolled down, staring at his mom and dad with anxious and teary eyes.

"I don't want you to go," the four-year-old said, obviously upset.

Richard ruffled his son's hair, looking down at him warmly.  "Don't worry, bud, we'll be back before you know it!"  Peter pouted, still holding onto the door.

"C'mon, Pete," Uncle Ben said from behind him.  He crouched down beside Peter.  "Your parents are gonna miss their flight.  They'll be back in a week, kiddo."  Peter turned his worried pout from his mother's and father's eyes to his only and favorite Uncle.

"I don't want them to go!" he whined.  The four adults shared a look.  Peter had mild separation anxiety but he had never whined this much about his parents leaving.

"Oh, sweetheart," his mom said softly, making him look at her.  "It's okay.  We'll be home soon and then you'll get all the ice cream you want!  How does that sound?"  Peter frowned for a few moments as if thinking it over before he nodded his head.

"Okay, Mama," Peter said, removing his hands from the door.  "I love you."  The heavy feeling in his stomach lessened a little but it was still there.

"Love you, too, buddy," she told, smiling over at her son.  "Bye, baby.  We'll be back soon."

"See you soon, buddy," his dad said.  "We love you."

Peter frowned at them for a few moments.  They had never said 'I love you' this much before and that heavy feeling came back heavier than before.  Despite that, Peter told them one last I love you.  He watched on the sidewalk as his parents started up the car and drove off, not removing his eyes until he could no longer see it.

That heavy feeling didn't go away for the next three days.

It was three days later when they got the call.  "There was an accident," his Aunt May had said, tears in her eyes and voice shaky.  "The plane crashed."  Peter didn't want to understand.  He didn't want to listen to his Aunt and Uncle, his now official guardians, tell him that his parents weren't coming home.

"Where's mommy and daddy?" Peter had asked them, his hands clenched around the fabric of his sweater.  His glasses had been slipping down his nose but he didn't seem to care due to the current circumstances.  "Where are they, Aunt May?"  He had turned to his uncle.  "Uncle Ben?"

A man in a suit had shown up a day later with a packet.  Peter had been hiding behind the kitchen counter.  He heard words like 'sole guardians' and 'will' thrown around but he didn't understand.  He didn't understand any of it.  He just wanted his mommy and daddy back.  They had said that they would come home!

"Mom and Dad got hurt," Uncle Ben had explained to him after they all sat down in the living room.  Aunt May's and Uncle Ben's eyes had been red and their cheeks were shiny.  "Peter...  They're not coming back."

On Sunday, when they were supposed to be back, Peter went to the cemetery.  He watched as his mom and dad, his parents, the people he loved most, were buried in the ground.  He didn't remember crying, but he did remember holding his Aunt's and Uncle's hand.

"What do you mean?" Peter had asked, his heart thudding and tears welling in his eyes.  He knew what they mean.   _He knew_.  That heavy feeling from when his parents were leaving had come back to him.  "What do you mean they're not coming back?"

When Peter was supposed to be getting ice cream with his mom and dad, he fully understood what had happened.

"Peter, sweetheart," May had told him, pulling him into a hug.  "Mom and Dad are gone.  They're never coming back.  I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Peter had burst into tears on the way to his Aunt and Uncle's apartment, his new home.  His face was buried in his knees and his body was shaking in sobs.  He finally understood what Aunt May and Uncle Ben said when his parents weren't coming back.   _They're dead.  They're gone.  They're not coming back._

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fifth birthday, his parents died.

**When Peter Parker was two months shy...  series**


	24. #24--May 7, 2019

***Warning triggers for rape, any type of sexual assault, and rape of a minor.**

**When Peter Parker was two months shy of his eighth birthday, he decided that he didn't want to play a game.**

"Skip!" seven-year-old Peter cheers gleefully, running up to his friend.

"Einstein!" the teenager shouts back equally as cheerful, setting a hand on the younger boy's shoulder.  Peter wraps his arms around Skip's waist excitedly, grinning a broad smile at the teenager.  "What's got you so excited, Einstein?"  Peter, who is practically bursting in excitement, quickly fills his friend on the news.

"Aunt May and Uncle Ben are going out tonight and said that you can come over until they get home!" Peter squeals as the two made their way into Peter's apartment building.  Skip lives a few blocks away but would usually walk Peter home after school ended since he walks past his school on the way home.  "Can you come over?  Can you!?"

Skip flashes Peter a big smile.  "Of course, Einstein!  We're friends.  Why wouldn't I come over?"  Peter grins at that.  Steven 'Skip' Westcott is his only friend.  None of the other kids at school wants to be friends with the over-talkative asthmatic kid.  None of them wants to hear him rave about the latest technology that Tony Stark made.

Peter excitedly talks to Skip about what they could do while his Aunt and Uncle are out.  "Maybe we can watch a movie?  Or play Monopoly?  Oh!  I know!  We can build something with my legos!" Peter suggests, his eyes lighting up as they walk through the front door of his apartment.

Peter runs up to his Uncle and throws his arms around him, grinning up at the man.  "Guess what, Uncle Ben!  Guess what!"  Ben grins down at his nephew, ruffling up his hair as he chuckles at his nephew's excitement.

"What?" Ben asks.  "What?"

"Skip said that he can come over tonight!" Peter squeals excitedly, turning back to look at Skip who was currently leaning against the apartment door frame.

"That's great, buddy!" Ben says with a smile, looking up at the teenager.

"I'm going to go," Skip tells the man, pointing a thumb behind him.  "I've got a new game for Einstein and me to play.  You can call me when you need me to come over.  See you in a bit, Einstein!"  Peter pouts as Skip closes the door behind him before grinning in excitement.  He wonders what new game Skip had for them to play.

Would it be a board game?  A card game?  Some sort of memory or logic game?  Whatever the game may be, Peter hopes it will be fun.  But, Skip's games are always fun.  So he doesn't worry too much.

Peter jumps up and down excitedly when someone knocks on the door.  It had been a few hours since Skip walked Peter home and Aunt May and Uncle Ben were all ready to go out on their date.  As usual when Skip comes over to babysit, Aunt May and Uncle Ben go over what to should anything bad happen.  They've never had to use the emergency information or anything before, but they always do, just in case.

"Thanks again, Skip," Peter could hear Aunt May say.

"It's no worry, Mrs. Parker," Skip tells the woman.  "I don't mind hanging out with Einstein."

"Well then," Ben says, drawing the conversation to a close.  "I guess we better head out or we'll be late for dinner.  Have a fun night, boys!  We'll be back by ten at the latest.  Please have Peter in bed by then."

"Of course, Mr. Parker," Skip assures, flashing a smile at the duo.  "You and Mrs. Parker don't have to worry about anything.  Go have some fun.  Everyone knows you deserve it."  With a final goodbye to the two boys, the couple left, leaving Peter alone with Skip.

Unable to hold down his excitement, Peter bounds up to Skip.  "What kind of game do you have?" Peter asks Skip eagerly, eyes shining behind his thick-framed glasses.  Skip just chuckles at the overexcited kid, putting his backpack down and heading into the living room.

"It's a fun game, Einstein, but we'll play it later," Skip says with a broad grin.  "How about we watch a movie or two before we play it?  We'll play it in your room before you go to bed.  It shouldn't take long."  If Peter found anything wrong with Skip's wording, he says nothing.  Because Skip is his friend and they are going to play a new fun game!  He just has to be patient, that's all.

And so, Skip and Peter settles into the living room with the lights off and the movie Skip brought over playing on the screen.  Throughout the movie, Peter couldn't remove his thoughts from the game that Skip wants to play.  What is so special about it that it had to be played in his room and right before his bedtime?

Eventually, the credits to the first movie began to roll but it is only seven o'clock.  Peter's Aunt and Uncle aren't due home for another two or three hours, but Peter's bedtime is coming up soon.  His bedtime is at nine since it is date night.  "Hey, Einstein," Skip starts, checking the time, "I think we have time for another movie before we can play that game and get you to bed."

Peter grins at his friend and another movie was loaded into the DVD player and begins to play.  It isn't uncommon for the two to spend his Aunt and Uncle's date nights watching a few movies, but usually, they would play a few games before Peter had to go to bed.  Peter hopes that they'll have enough time to play the game.

As the second movie progresses, Peter can't help but notice how fidgety that Skip becomes the closer his bedtime comes.  Perhaps the teenager is as excited for the new game that Peter is?  If Skip seems this excited then the game must be really fun!  And so when the credits began to roll, Peter gets really confused when Skip tells him to get dressed in his pajamas.

"But what about the game?" Peter asks in confusion.  Skip only smiles that broad smile at him.

"Don't worry about that, Einstein.  I just need to set it up while you get dressed," Skip informs him, walking over to his backpack.  "Go ahead and get changed in the bathroom.  I'll be in your room when you're finished."  Peter nods, albeit in confusion, and dashes off in his room to gather his pajamas.

Peter quickly pulls on his pajamas, excitement coursing through his veins at the prospect of a new game.  He bounds out of the bathroom and into his bedroom where Skip sits with a few magazines and a bottle of what looks to be lotion.  There is also a towel sitting on his nightstand.  Peter frowns in confusion at the excited look on his friend's face and closes the bedroom door when prompted by the older boy.

"I thought we were gonna play a game?" Peter says, crawling onto the bed and beside Skip.

"Oh, don't worry, Einstein.  We are," Skip says.  Peter's excitement lessens a bit at Skip's eager expression and somewhat creepy grin.  Something is beginning to feel... off.  "This new game is only played with the bestest of friends.  So you may not have heard of it before.  But I'm going to show you some pictures in these magazines and we're going to replicate them, okay?"

Nodding in confusion, Peter looks down at the magazines.  He freezes in place.  On the front cover of the magazine are two men.  Two  _naked_  men.  Peter's face flushes in embarrassment as Skip flips the page, showing one of the men with their mouth on the other's private.

Peter's excitement for this game has immediately been extinguished by this point.  "Now, you're gonna touch me here, Einstein," Skip tells the boy, pointing to his privates.  At Peter's wide-eyed incredulous and confused expression, the teenager explains.  "Oh, Einstein.  I know that you've never really had friends before me so you must not have heard of this game.  Like I said before, only best friends play this type of game.  And we're best friends, right?  And good friends do this for each other.  It makes them feel good."

Skip sighs after a few moments of Peter's silence.  "I guess I'll have to lead, then," he murmurs, promptly beginning to unbutton his jeans.  When Skip reaches for Peter's hand, the boy pulls it away.  His stomach felt heavy and it was churning.

"I don't think I want to play this game..." Peter says slowly, trying to inch away from his friend.  Skip just shakes his head like Peter was being unreasonable.

"Don't worry, Einstein.  I promise you'll feel good," Skip promises warmly, wrapping his large hand around Peter's smaller one.  Before the kid can pull away, Peter's hand is already in the teenager's pants and touching his privates.  Peter tries to pull away, whimpering about how he doesn't want to play the game while Skip continues to make the boy touch him.  Skip's sighs of pleasure make Peter feel confused.

On one hand he  _knows_  he shouldn't be touching Skip's privates, but on the other hand, Skip said that the bestest of friends did it and he is making him feel good.

After a few more minutes, Skip's hand slowly crawls over Peter's thighs, making the boy jerk back.  Peter's thoughts immediately turn to how this was so  _wrong_  but then Skip is touching him and pulling his pants down.  Skip pulls Peter's hand away from his private, instead choosing to reach for the bottle of lotion.

Peter tries to keep his pants and underwear on but Skip easily manages to pull them off and flings them across the room.  "I don't want to play this game anymore!" Peter cries out as Skip begins to touch him.  Peter flings his arms out in an attempt to get the teenager away from him but Skip just flips him over to his stomach instead, kneeling behind him.

"Don't worry, Einstein.  It'll feel good," Skip assures, his voice sounding sickeningly sweet and syrupy.  The teenager pries the boy's legs apart easily and Peter clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head as sobs began to pour out of his mouth, a steady stream of 'I don't want to do play anymore' coming out of him.  They are coming out in whispered pleas as Peter's breathing becomes shallow.  He is beginning to have a panic attack.

Peter cries out sharply when his bottom erupts in pain before the sound's muffled when a rough hand forces his head into his pillows.  Peter can feel Skip's heavy breathing on the back of his neck and then the feel of his teeth biting at his shoulder.  All the while Peter continues to cry that he doesn't want to play the game anymore while trying to breathe.

Peter tries to drown out the sound of Skip whispering in his ear.  "You're doing so good, Einstein."  "You feel so good, Pete."  "You're an angel, sweetheart."  "So  _tight."  "_ So  _perfect,_  just for  _me._ "

Peter shakes his head and sobs into his pillow as Skip pulls away after a long moment that ends with a satisfying groan and a warm feeling in his bottom.  The towel he saw earlier is wiping at his bottom and between his legs.  Peter doesn't stop shaking when Skip works his underwear and pajama pants over his legs.  He doesn't stop crying when Skip pulls the covers over him, telling him, "You can't tell May or Ben, Einstein.  This is only a game that best friends can play.  It's a secret.  They can't know.  You don't want to be a bad friend, do you?"  He doesn't but he can't stop feeling or hearing him on him even when the lights turn off and the door shuts close and he hears his Aunt and Uncle come home.

He doesn't tell them until two months later and he doesn't see Skip anymore after the police officers come.  And Peter thinks that now it's okay.  It's not a secret anymore.

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his eighth birthday, his only friend and babysitter raped him.

**When Peter Parker was two months shy...  series**


	25. #25--May 8, 2019

**When Peter Parker was two months shy of his tenth birthday, he thought he was never going to see his Aunt and Uncle again.**

It had been two years after the events of Skip Westcott and it had been a few months after Peter had gone to the Stark Expo where he actually saw  _the_  Iron Man.  Tony Stark himself.  He remembers being so excited when he got the tickets on his ninth birthday.  But it was even more exciting when he stood up to that Hammer drone like Iron Man himself and Iron Man had shown up.  He can still hear the "Nice work, kid" ringing in his ears.

"Pete, get up.  You need to get ready for school!" his Aunt yells through the bedroom door.  "You don't want to miss your last day of school, do you?"  Peter groans as he throws his covers off him, muttering under his breath as he pulls out a random pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.  He vaguely recognizes it as the Stark Expo shirt he got a few months ago and it makes a smile grow on his face even if he's tired.

Peter shoves his door open after throwing on his clothes, still grumbling as he makes his way into the bathroom.  "I don't want to hear any grumbling, Peter!" he could hear his Aunt's voice shout down the hall.  "It's your fault that you're tired.  And your Uncle's.  You two shouldn't have stayed up all night watching  _Star Wars_."

"But it's  _Star Wars_!" Peter whines as he walks into the bathroom, doing his business before washing his hands.  He makes his way out to the kitchen, sitting down at the small rickety table as his Uncle places pancakes down.  He smiles as his Uncle gives him a wink, digging into his pancakes.

Aunt May just raises an eyebrow at him, sipping at her cup of tea.  Peter tosses his plate in the sink when he's done, running to his room to grab his backpack before remembering that he doesn't need it since it's the last day of school.  "You're doing the dishes when you get home," Uncle Ben says, nodding to the sink where Peter's plate sits.  "Come on, let's go, buddy."

Peter runs to the door as his Uncle grabs his jacket and they both make their way into Ben's car.  "School ends at twelve," Peter reminds Ben as they pull up outside of the school.  "See you at home!"  Peter jumps out of the passenger seat, stopping when Ben calls out for him.

"Remember that you're gonna have to walk home today, bud," Ben reminds him.  "You're Aunt and I'll be at work until one.  Head straight home, okay?"  Peter nods his head.  He's walked home before since the school is only a few blocks away from his apartment building.  "Okay, see you when we get home, buddy."

"Bye!  Love you, Ben!" Peter shouts, running away and waving at his uncle.  He sees his Uncle say 'I love you' back before he joins the rush of kids and enters the elementary school.

Throughout the day, Peter can't help but feel like something is off.  It's not just that he'll never see Forest Hills Elementary again, and it's not that they're doing nothing for the next six hours, it's just something feels off.  And the feeling becomes more intense the closer the end to school comes.

Peter flinches as the shrill bell proclaiming the last day of school rings.  Peter had spent all day more or less reading, playing a few of the games the teachers set up and mingling with a few of the students who don't really mind him.  Peter doesn't have any friends, not since he went to live with his Aunt and Uncle and especially not since Skip, so he spends most of the day more or less alone.

Peter takes his time leaving the school, however, since that foreboding feeling is still there.  Slowly, Peter follows after the few kids that live near his apartment, but they all end up living a few blocks before him and then he's alone.  Peter can't help but fidget and look around him as the heavy feeling creeps up on him, but he pushes it away, thinking that it's his anxiety working up  _again._

It's only when he passes by an alley that Peter realizes that it  _wasn't_  his anxiety.  He's grabbed by rough hands and can't even shout as a hand covers his mouth, knocking his glasses off his face and bruising the bridge of his nose.  Peter immediately squirms in the man's hold, chest heaving and heart racing in fear.

"Let me go!" he screams into the glove-covered hand, flashbacks of Skip haunting him.  There had been times where Peter would fight against Skip as the teenager tried to coax the boy into his bedroom.  Skip had ended up holding Peter a similar way that this man is holding him to make him go into his room without making too much noise.

"Shut the brat up, already!" a foreign voice enters his ears as he's thrown into the back of a van.  A man holds him down as another shoves another needle into his neck, causing Peter to wince and slump in the man's hold not long after.  The only thought Peter has in his mind is _I'm not going to be able to do the dishes..._

When Peter awakes, he realizes that he is  _not_  at home and his vision is blurry due to the loss of his glasses.  He flinches as the door to what he realizes is his cell is thrown open.  "Peter Parker!" the man says, making Peter still because  _how do these people know my name?_   "It is great to see you."

Peter looks up at the man in confusion.  He can't see him that clearly, but since the man is far enough away he can make out some features instead of blurs.  The man is tall and kind of lanky with dark brown hair and light eyes that remind him of Skip's.  The thought makes him want to puke.  Instead, he asks, "What am I doing here?  Who are you?"

"Ah, that is the question, isn't it?" the man muses, rubbing his hands together and fiddling with the collar of his white lab coat.  "I'm Albert Malik.  You see, I knew you're father," Peter freezes, "but he refused to give the information I asked for so I took it from him and your mother.  They were exceptional scientists who were working on a way to recreate the effects of the super soldier serum.  They were trying to find a way to mutate animal and insect DNA, well arachnid, technically, and tried to mutate it with human DNA.  Spiders have exceptional strength, did you know that?  They can hold onto something that is 170 times their body weight and can jump 50 times their body length.  And let's not forget their amazing senses."

"Okay..." Peter said, eyeing the man warily.  "What does this have to do with me?"

"Ah, and there's the million dollar question," Albert says, smiling.  "You see, when Richard was testing human DNA with a spider's DNA, he used his  _own_  DNA.  And we can't use the spiders he had since they can only mutate to him.  And since you carry half of your father's DNA, the spiders should be able to mutate you."

Peter blinks as the man acquires a small capsule with a spider crawling away from it.  Albert begins walking towards him, making Peter scramble away from him before the two guards who were standing behind the scientist grab him.  Albert tsks at him as he removes the cap to the small tube, placing the front of it on Peter's arm.

The small red and blue spider crawls over Peter's arms, making him shiver as it stops.  Peter yelps as the spider bites him, causing him to jerk and throw the spider off him.  Albert scowls at Peter, slapping him and causing Peter to whimper as he picks up the spider.  Its legs are curled in, showing its death.

The two men drop Peter and they take their leave.  Albert gives Peter a chilling smile, "I'll be back in a few hours to monitor your vitals and see if you're acquiring any abilities.  Until then, goodbye."  The cell door slams shut, leaving Peter alone in the dark.  His chest begins to heave as gasps escape him.   _He's not going home.  He's not going home.  He's not going home._   And,  _he killed my parents._

Albert comes in two times a day for the next week, but nothing is happening to Peter.  His senses are as weak as ever and he doesn't possess any type of super strength at all.

"Dammit!" Albert shouts, throwing a tray of tools across the room.  Peter's strapped down to a medical table and blood pours down his arm from where the man took some of his blood.  "That stupid spider did nothing.   _Nothing._ "  Peter warily eyes up the man as he paces back and forth, his heart rate spiking at the man continues to yell.  "I guess I'm going to have to make the spiders myself," the man mutters.

Peter's heart sinks.   _He's not going home._

When Peter Parker was two months shy of his ninth birthday, he was kidnapped by Hydra.

**When Peter Parker was two months shy...  series**


	26. #26--May 9, 2019

**Tony Mirror Kidnapping--Pt. 1**

"Hey, Happy, do you think Mr. Stark is feeling alright?" Peter asks suddenly, looking up at Happy.  The two are currently on their way to the Compound when the thought to ask Happy about Mr. Stark struck him.  Mr. Stark's been acting a little weird the past few days and he's even canceled a few of their lab days.

"Why do you say that, kid?" Happy asks, looking back at him through the mirror.  Peter just shrugs and looks out the window.  They're on a long road that leads to the Compound.  It has no cars on it other than the one that Peter sits in currently.

"It's just he's canceled a few of our lab days, that's all," Peter says, looking back at the man.  "He usually doesn't do that without telling me or shooting me a message, you know?  I think something's goi--"  Peter's voice cuts off when the back of his neck tingles and flares in warning, making him immediately tense and look around him.

"Kid, what's--?"  Happy's voice is cut off by the car suddenly flying through the air and rolling.  Peter grunts as he's thrown into the door and grabs the handle on the roof of the car as it rocks back and forth dangerously before stopping upright.  Immediately Peter pulls off the seatbelt, absentmindedly noticing that he just broke it instead of unbuckling it.  He's about to get out of the car when Happy's voice stops him.

"Kid, stay in the car-- _I mean it!_ "  Without another word, Happy jumps out of the car, gun at the ready.  Peter flinches as an explosion goes off nearby, it making his ears ring even more.  Peter shakes his head and rips his seatbelt off.  He's Spider-Man.  He should be able to protect himself.  Another explosion goes off but it's much closer to him and throws Peter off his feet.

He rolls around onto his stomach before pushing himself up, looking over sharply as Happy groans.  The man's on the ground, half conscious with metal shards piercing his body.  Now that he thinks about it, Peter can feel blood pouring out of his body.  He looks down at his arms and hands.  Small pieces of shrapnel are covering his chest, arms, and hands with blood pouring out of him at an unhealthy rate.

Through the ringing in his ears, Peter can hear footsteps approach him, but before he can do anything, something strikes his head.

When he awakens, Peter can hear the mutterings of people talking and he knows that he should be able to understand them but he can't.  He can barely hear them as it is.  It sounds like they're whispering.  When he opens his eyes, he sees a black cloth before the bag is wrenched over his head, making him flinch at the bright lights.

He's kneeling on the ground and men are holding weapons all around him.  All he can think is,  _This is bad.  This is very_ very _bad._

**Midtown Tech, 36 Hours Earlier**

"You losers better not screw this up," MJ says, glaring at the team.  The team, as in Midtown's Academic Decathlon Team.  "We're on our own turf so we better not lose.  We need this one to get into regionals, so answer as quickly as possible with the _correct answer_."  Everyone's eyes flit over to Flash, who balks at all of the attention on him.

"What?" he asks, looking at everyone.  Ned snickers from beside a smirking Peter.  Everyone knows who Eugene _'Flash'_ Thompson loves to answer questions as quickly as possible and almost always ends up getting the questions wrong.  And since Betty Brant is at home with the flu, Flash, their normal alternate, has to participate.

MJ continues without acknowledging Flash.  "We have three teams going up there that will rotate.  Peter, Ned, Cindy, you three are on the Test of Knowledge round for science, math, and economics.  Sally, Abe, and I will do literature, art, music, and social sciences.  Flash, me, and Charles are doing the speech category while Cindy, Abe, and Sally are on the multiple choice questions.  Me, Peter, Sally, and Ned are on sudden death.  Everyone know where they're going?"  Everyone nods their heads and Mr. Harrington walks up to them from the side of the stage.

"Okay, everyone!" he says loudly, gathering everyone's attention.  "Who's ready to win?"  They all cheer before the first teams are called out onto the stage.

Peter follows behind Ned and Cindy, his eyes shifting over the sea of people.  He smiles as he sees his Aunt and grins when he sees Mr. Stark.  He hasn't seen the man in a few days since he canceled a few of their lab days but he's glad he's there.  He's wearing an MIT sweatshirt, jeans, and of course, sunglasses.  Peter refocuses his attention and takes his seat.

"Welcome Midtown Tech and Staten Island Tech!" the announcer of the competition says, gaining a lot of cheers and applause from the sea of parents and scouts.  "This is competition will determine which of the two schools go onto regionals, so without further ado, begin!"

Questions fly out of the judge's mouth at rapid speeds, the ringing of bells filling the air.  The two teams seem matched and Peter pushes himself to ring the bell as quickly as possible.  "Vibranium!"  "Polychlorinated diphenyl!"  "Deoxyribonucleic acid!"

The room gets tenser and tenser as kids get the questions right and wrong and soon enough it's down to sudden death.

"This question will determine which school goes onto regionals," the judge says, making the room deadly silent and has the kids on the edge of their seats.  "What is the iron man suit made out of?" the judge asks the group.  Peter grins and rings the bell with lightning fast reflexes.  Peter had been the one to help Mr. Stark write the magazine article on the man's suits, so of course he knows the answer to this question.

"Nitinol!"  The whole room is silent for a second before the judge confirms the answer as correct.  Midtown's side erupts in cheers as Ned shakes Peter, yelling in his ear.  Peter's eyes are on Mr. Stark and May who have the largest grins on their faces.  They're waving at Peter and cheering and Peter waves back as the rest of the team run out on stage, all of them crowding around Peter, except Flash of course.

"I guess your Stark Internship is worth something, isn't it?" Ned says, elbowing Peter and making Flash glare at them.  The guy still refuses to believe that Peter has an internship with Mr. Stark.  Peter just rolls his eyes and shoves Ned back as their trophy is handed to Peter.  The whole group crowds together around Peter who grins at the camera.  There are a few flashes until the parents of the kids come up to get their own pictures.

Peter ends up with the trophy again as his Aunt May and Mr. Stark come up to him.  "I'll get a picture of you two!" May says, nudging Tony forward.  "Say cheese!"  The two roll their eyes as Tony throws an arm over Peter's shoulders, throwing a thumb up as they grin.

"Good job, kiddo," Mr. Stark says with a proud smile, making Peter look over him with an awed grin.  The flashing of Tony's phone, which May grabbed, breaks them out of their little circle.  The woman has the decency to grin at their deadpanned expression.  Mr. Stark just rolls his eyes and pulls May over to Peter, grabbing her phone off her and taking a picture of the two.  The two adults switch phones as Mr. Harrington drops by to grab the trophy.

"Good job out there, Peter," the man says, taking the trophy from him.  "I hope we'll be seeing you at regionals."  Peter ducks his head down sheepishly.  He's had to skip out on a few meets in the past year because he was either in the medbay at the Compound or because Mr. Stark needed him for a mission.

"I'll be there," Peter says, grinning at the teacher.  The man walks away, leaving Peter with May and Mr. Stark.

"C'mon, kid," Mr. Stark says, throwing an arm over Peter's shoulder, "let's go get some ice cream."  Peter cheers as May follows after them with the shake of her head.

 

Peter wakes up to the sound of his alarm ringing beside his head.  Slapping the button, he takes a few minutes to get out of bed and throws on a random pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  Yawning, he makes his way into the bathroom.  He had to wake up early yesterday since the decathlon match started at seven in the morning.  The match had lasted more or less five hours and had taken up most of the day.  And since the match was yesterday, Peter didn't have to go to school.  Though, he has to go today.  The only relief is that it's Friday which means that he's going over to the Compound.

Peter grabs his backpack and heads out into the living room, looking at the note that May left for him:  _'I got called into work early.  I left a few protein bars on the counter for you to eat.  See you on Monday.  -May'_

Peter grabs the protein bars and tears the first one open as he heads out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.  He sends a text to May, telling her that he's on his way to school as he munches on the protein bars.  The walk to the subway seems to take a little longer than normal, but Peter makes it onto the train on time.

"Hey, Ned!" Peter calls out as he approaches his locker.

"Peter!" Ned yells out.  "Guess what I got yesterday?"  Peter raises an eyebrow at him as he grabs his chemistry book out of his locker.  "The new Droid Gunship lego set!  My parents got it for me since we won the match yesterday.  You wanna come over and build it?"

"That's so cool!" Peter says, ignoring the mutterings of the people calling him and Ned a loser.  "I can't go, though, sorry.  It's Friday.  I--"

"'Go over to the Compound on Fridays.'  Yeah, I know, I know," Ned says, sounding disappointed.  "What about on Monday, then?"  Peter nods his head.

"I'm not doing anything on Monday.  Wanna come over after school?" Peter asks as the two of them make their way to chemistry.  Ned nods his head and confirms the date.  "So, what did you do yesterday after the match?  May and Mr. Stark took me out for ice cream and we watched a movie and got some Thai to congratulate the win."

"My parents and I went out to dinner," Ned says as they take their seats next to each other.  "Other than that I kinda just spent the day building one of the lego sets I got and watching  _Star Wars_  again.  Did Mr. Stark--?"  Ned's cut off by the first bell and Peter gives him a glance before paying attention to the teacher.  They've been given a lot of warnings and the teacher told them that if she caught them speaking in class again, that they'd both get detention.

The day flies by quickly and Peter meets the rest of the decathlon team in the auxiliary gym when the final bell rings.  "Okay, guys," Mr. Harrington says.  "This meet shouldn't take long.  I would like to congratulate all of you for winning yesterday's match.  Staten Island is a hard school to go against, especially since their another tech school."  Mr. Harrington looks over at MJ.  "Michelle, would you like to take over?"  MJ stands up from where she was sitting.

"Okay, dweebs, congratulations, we won.  But now we're going to regionals," MJ starts, glaring at everyone.  "That means more meeting and longer meetings if we want to win.  We barely won yesterday, so we have got to study harder.  That means no skipping out on meetings," Peter shrinks down as everyone turns to him, "and pay attention during the meetings," everyone turns to Flash who also shrinks down.  "Regionals are our key to winning state.  So, I've compiled a list of topics that we're going to study in the next few months."

MJ grabs a stack of papers, takes one for herself, and passes it to Mr. Harrington.  He grabs one and the stack circles around the room until everyone has a list.  The list is double sided and has three columns.

"Wait, you expect us to know _all_ of this?" Flash asks, disbelief coloring his voice.  MJ just glares at him.

"Of course, I do," she says.  "Regionals are no joke.  You saw how hard they were last year.  And the list isn't just for regionals, either.  These are some of the topics that we'll need to know for state."  Flash shrinks away from MJ's glare and she goes over the list.

"Okay, losers," MJ says, looking up from the list.  "That just about covers it for today."  Everyone lets out sighs of relief and Peter sends a text to Happy.  The man responds saying that he'll be at the school in ten minutes.  Peter shoulders his backpack as everyone heads outside.  Some of their parents are already waiting for them, but most people are either walking home, driving, or calling their parents to come pick them up.

"Peter!"  Peter stops walking as MJ grabs his arm.  "You're not going to miss any meetings, right?  We can't afford to let your _internship_ get in the way of us winning regionals."  MJ had let Peter know not too long ago that she knew all along that he is Spider-Man.  Like she said last year, she's observant.

"Don't worry, MJ," Peter assures her as he catches sight of Happy's black SUV.  "I don't plan on skipping out on meetings if I can help it."  MJ stares into his eyes for a few moments before letting go of his arm and nodding her head.

"Okay, loser, see you on Monday."  Peter nods his head, flashes a peace sign, before jumping into the back of the SUV.

"Hey, Happy!" Peter says, tossing his backpack to the side and buckling in.  Happy just grunts as he pulls away from the curb.  "Thanks for coming to pick me up."  Peter goes on to describe his day to the man before eventually letting the conversation--if you could call it that--drop.

After a few hours, Peter brings up the topic of Mr. Stark, but before he can continue it properly, the car is rolling, explosions are happening, and he's knocked out.


	27. #27--May 10, 2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit shizzy.

**When Peter Parker was two months shy of his fourteenth birthday, he was bitten by a radioactive spider.**

Peter cringes as the door to his cell is thrown open, curling into the corner next to his cot.  The very familiar Albert Malik walks in, all high and mighty, and he grins at him.  The two guards, the same ones from four years ago, grab him.  He pulls against their arms but he doesn't have enough energy to move.  His food and water are limited and he can't sleep at night, nightmares about a time he can't remember and a time he  _does_ remember.

The men drag him down the hall and into the room that he is very familiar with.  It's the only other room that he actually goes to other than the bathroom and his cell.  The men pull him into the chair and use the fabric straps to hold him down.  He couldn't break them if he wanted to.

Albert walks around the room, gathering the materials to gather Peter's vitals and to set a control factor for when the next spider bites him.  Small scars litter Peter's arms and chest and small cuts in various stages of healing.  He had shed his shirt long ago when it became a little too tight on him.  It sits under his cot in the cell.  It's one of the only things from his life before.  It's one of the only things that he can remember.

Peter barely flinches as the scalpel slices a cut on his ribs.  This is all too familiar for him.  He can't help the way his chest jumps in a sharp breath as Albert brings the newest spider over to him.  He'll have a spider bite Peter every two weeks.  There are many small dots littering Peter's body from where the spider bit him.

Peter's heart picks up pace as the spider crawls out of the tube and onto his arm.  This one looks different from the others.  It makes Peter wary.  The spider crawls over his arm before digging its fangs into Peter's arm, making him jump against his restraints with a grunt.  He grimaces at the hot flash in his arm as Albert gathers the now dead spider off of his arm.

None of the spider bites have reacted this way and it makes Peter scared.  He thinks that it might work this time.

Albert takes his temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure.  He nods for the guards to take Peter back to his cell and the boy doesn't struggle against their arms.  They end up dropping him in the middle of the cell where he promptly curls into a little ball, exhaustion and aching limbs making him hate the thought of moving.  Slowly, Peter crawls over to his cot and pulls the ratty blanket down to him, too weak to pull himself onto the cot.

Shivering on the floor, Peter feels his eyes pull close.

He groans as the door to his cells slams open, his ears pounding at the sharp clang.  It sounds louder than normal.  The thunks of the two guards are his only warning before they wrench him up and drag him into the lab room.  He's strapped to the table and his head lolls to the side as Albert walks towards him.

The man checks on his ribs where the cut was and Peter sees the man's expression harden in disappointment.  Albert checks Peter's temperature and frowns at the results.  "You're burning up..." he murmurs before checking Peter's heart rate, "and your heart's beating faster than normal."

Peter just lays there, his eyes still closed from the bright light.  He swallows down his nausea as the man continues to run tests.  He barely even feels it when the man begins to take his blood.  "Interesting..." Albert mutters, no doubt checking Peter's blood through a microscope.   _What's interesting?_  Peter vaguely wonders.

"Take him back to his cell," Albert instructs.  Peter whines as the men remove the straps and wrench him off the table, his head pounding as he lays slack in their arms.  The men dump him on the ground but this time Peter doesn't have the energy to move.  He does, however, heave up the nutrients that were pumped into him that morning.  He lazily wipes his mouth and rolls to the side, curling into a ball and shivering.

He falls asleep with his body burning and body shivering.

Peter doesn't recall being dragged out of his cell when he awakes.  And now that he thinks about it, how many times has he been dragged into this room?  His eyes are still burning and his head and ears are hurting but he's no longer shivering or feeling like he's burning alive.

"Ah, Peter," Albert says, coming into view.  The head of the table is propped up and Peter can now see the man without having to lift his head.  "Are you with us?"  Peter frowns in confusion.   _What does he mean...?_ "Well, you see, you've been in and out of unconsciousness for the past week but it appears that the worst of your sickness has gone," the man says as if he heard Peter's question.   _I said that aloud, didn't I?_

"What's wrong with me?" Peter murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut as the bright lights become too much.  To his surprise, Albert flicks half of the lights off.

"You've mutated," Albert states simply.  "Apparently the muscle aches and the sensitivity and the sickness that's happened in the past week was your body dealing with the mutation.  You've formed muscles, you no longer need glasses, and it seems that you have exceptional hearing, Peter."  Peter frowns at the man but realizes that he is right.  He can hear the dripping of water from the bathroom down the hall and he can see the man perfectly even though he's standing a few feet away.

"Congratulation, Pete," Albert says.  "The spider worked."


	28. #28--May 11, 2019

**Tony Mirror Kidnapping--Pt. 2**

Flashes of pain and bright lights and cold hands and cold beams of metal holding him down flash through Peter's mind.  He jolts upwards with a start, looking around himself wildly as his chest throbs dully in pain.  His heart pounds against his ribs as he takes in the blackened room.  He can see only vague shapes but it seems that his usual sharpened vision isn't working, and now that he thinks about it, he feels weak.  Weaker than he's felt in the past year.

Peter slumps back against the wall, wincing as his chest flares in pain.  Looking down, he can see that he's no longer wearing his shirt and there are bandages wrapped around his torso.  Looking at his arms, he can see that there are bandages there, too.  He's beginning to peel them off when a voice cuts him off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."  Peter jumps and looks up.  How he hadn't seen the person when he first woke up, he has no idea.  Now that he thinks about it, the person is only a teenager that looks about his age.  "It took them a while to bandage you up, their meds didn't work on you so you were half-conscious through them removing the metal shards from your chest and arms."

Peter continues to stare at the boy.  "Wh-Who are you?" he croaks out, scrunching his face up a bit at the scratchiness of his throat.  The other teenager hands Peter a glass of water and he takes it without a second thought.  The other teenager looks to be in the same boat as him if the bruised knuckles and the cuts on the boy's face say anything.

"He didn't tell you about me?" the guy asks sarcastically, lifting an eyebrow.  "I'm Harley Keener."  It takes a second for it to click and suddenly Peter's choking on the water that he had been sipping.

"Y- _You're_  Harley?   _The_  Harley?  The one who helped Mr. Stark four years ago when everyone thought he died from that terrorist attack?" Peter spits out, leaning forward as he looks at the guy.  The kid, Harley, leans back a little at Peter's sudden spout of words.

"Tony's told you about me?" Harley asks, bewildered.  Peter nods his head wildly.

"Dude, you're like a legend!" Peter says excitedly.  "Mr. Stark's told me all about how you helped him with his suit after it got busted.  Dude, you got to work on  _his suit!_   Like, he barely even lets me touch it when it's busted.  And you got to _work_ on it!  And, I mean I'll take apart some of his old ones--"  Peter's cut off when the cell door is thrown open, colliding with the wall with a clang.

Three men stand there, one in front of two others.  The one in front is wearing a sickeningly familiar symbol and it makes Peter's heart stutter in his chest.  Both boys immediately scramble onto their feet at the sight of the men, both tensing and their hands curling into fists.  The man in front smiles at them.

"Hello, boys," he says.  The back of Peter's neck prickles at the man's voice.  It seems that he still has his spidey senses even though it seems that he's lost the majority of his other senses.  "It's nice to meet the two kids who Tony Stark has taken a shine to."  Peter shifts uneasily and sees Harley do the same.  "Now, boys, nobody has to get hurt.  All you have to do is build us an iron man suit."

Peter narrows his eyes at the man while Harley speaks up.  "Why the hell would we do that?" He asks snarkily.  "So you can kill a lot of people with it?"  The man nods to the two boys and the two guards behind him rush forward.  Peter does his best to fight the man off, but he's bigger than him and he's still weak and he doesn't have any of his enhanced strength.  The guard manages to pull Peter's arms behind him and Peter sees that the other guard has Harley in the same hold.

"You're going to build it or we're going to force you to build it," the man says.  With nods towards the door, Peter and Harley are dragged out of their cell and pulled down the brightly lit hall.  They're dragged through a few rooms before they're both kneeling before tubs of water.  They're sat across from each other, and as Peter stares into Harley's dark blue eyes, he sees fear there.  Real, cold _fear_.

Before either of them can say anything, Peter's head his wrenched forward and held under the water.  Almost immediately, he begins thrashing, remembering the time the Vulture dropped him into a lake where his parachute wrapped around him and stopped him from being able to escape.  When his head is finally pulled away from the water, he can hear Harley shouting from behind his gasping.  After a few breaths, his head is thrown back under.  This happens a few more times before it's Harley's turn.

Peter can't tell what's worse; his head being held underwater or Harley's.  Peter nearly screams himself raw by the time both of the soaking boys are dragged to their cell, both shivering and huddling together as soon as they're released.  Through the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears, Peter can hear the Head Honcho speaking.  Through blurry eyes, Peter can see a red light and what resembles a camera.

After a few mumbled noises that Peter can vaguely recognize as  _words_ , the Head Honcho leaves with who Peter's deemed as Tweedledee and Tweedledum.  Peter's shivering so hard that his teeth are constantly clicking together, but from what he can tell, Harley's doing better because he can actually thermoregulate like a normal human being instead of like a DNA-mutated-spider-human.

After a few moments, Harley speaks up.  "We're fucked.  We're  _so_  fucked."  All Peter can do is nod.  Because  _fucked indeed._


End file.
